


BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog

by bearblue



Series: Builders [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Incomplete (chapters 9 of 9 so far), M/M, Multi, Multiverse, builders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearblue/pseuds/bearblue
Summary: Sure, there are some changes after Halloween, but Xander, Willow and Dawn didn’t realize how much their lives had and would change until they found something in Uncle Rory’s Yard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers
> 
> Warning: Disclaimers may count as spoilers. Read at your own risk. That said, Disclaimers hold important information. If you skip it, you’ll miss the why’s and wherefores, which I will not go into or respond to if brought up in reviews or missives to myself. Don’t read at your own risk.  
> Title: BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog  
> Fandom: BTVS / Multiple  
> Pairing: Not Really Any Just Yet  
> Rating: FR18 (May really be FR15, but wanted to be safe.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that “ownership,” of the characters belongs to others and that this work is entirely based on affection. This work is an interpretation and not for-profit, (though it may be for praise and enjoyment) Reference to persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
> 
> A/N - This fiction draws from several sources for inspiration - it mostly uses BTVS TV canon as a starting point. It also draws from Ultimate Peasant by Wraithrune and his/her Dungeon Monk stories. I started out "borrowing," some of the ideas, but they have been very transformed and this story/series will stand on its own and have its own plotline, with its own characterizations. Thus, no copyright infringement nor permissions needed, but it is rather fanfic inspired by fanfic.
> 
> Other inspirations may affect the story telling. I don’t know about my ability to track them all, but consider such influences disclaimed here-in (See above). This is, after all, fan fiction and is thus a very transformed work.
> 
> Some of the fandoms either obviously used or subtly referenced in this particular story are:  
> Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
> Despicable Me  
> Better Off Dead  
> Mystery Men  
> Toy Story  
> Herbie  
> DC and Marvel and likely other Graphic Novel/Anime sources
> 
> Others which I haven’t started on yet, because this is “Unfinished”. The general disclaimer applies to stories specifically listed and not specifically listed..
> 
> Various Games and movies and books inspired content, but do not have explicit ID within this story. However a short list of possible inspirations: Dungeon Keeper, Majesty, Age of Empires, Simcity, Civilization, Galactic Civ, Stronghold, Furyband T-Plus, WoW, and other games and stories. Should this go into “series” the games and other influences in this story/series will not be limited to 1997 as they are considered “alternate universes”.
> 
> Beta Reader: Ironbear!, LadyDragonstorm, Bonnie, Blackgrl, Melanacious
> 
> A/N - This is a sequel to my shake off the dust fan fiction. For some reason, the other fic made many people happy. That made me happy. Thus - sequel. 
> 
> WCSII made a pretty convincing argument regarding speed of writing (which was actually quite heartening) and posting things that were half-built playgrounds. Plus, lately, I’ve seen some updates to stories I thought gone the way of the dodo and realized, ‘tis not over till it’s over. Thus, my decision to go ahead and post. The first update will include the first three chapters, but after that, it will be as I finish chapters as I can get to it.
> 
> That said, the first story was finished before posting. This story is not. This story is: *stamp* INCOMPLETE! *endstamp*
> 
> More author notes at the bottom, because this was too long...

BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog Pt 1

-BTVS-  
Location - High School - Friday after Halloween; November 7th.

Heavy text books thudded onto the sunlit cafeteria table, causing things to bounce and jiggle.

“Hey! Watch the Garlic Bread Basket. They just refilled that!” Xander protested, while Willow scooted her chair over a little to make room for their friend. He snagged one of the soft sticks of garlicky goodness while he was speaking. “They make backpacks for a reason you know?”

“Sorry, Xan. Research. Blame Giles,” Buffy said, as she sat down by the redhead, smiling. Xander grunted in response, as his mouth was full, but he didn’t need to actually say more. He knew. They all knew, how Giles could be about books. Some tomes simply did not get put in the pack, no matter how heavy they were, especially if he let them take them out of the library. Not one of them would ever mention that the books had been anywhere near food. No reason to stir the pot, after all.

Buffy reached for a breadstick happily. “Ooh. So today is Italian? Wow, you know, they’ve really stepped things up since last week.”

“Yeah. I guess the rebuild over the weekend made the staff happy. Either that or we have new cooks.” Willow shrugged. No one felt obliged to mention why the school had gained a facelift; even though the aftereffects were still being felt. Word was that the Mayor had approved a few of the suites upstairs for visiting students, though those transfers had not yet arrived. The principal was still being friendly with everyone, though that was starting to rough around the edges a bit as the school week had progressed. The walls and gates still stood as protection for the school and the officers cast their serious glance at the students as they patrolled the hallway and guarded the gate. There was, thankfully, no frisking and no weird need for weapons checks. According to the news, the campus had been re-rated as an A-plus emergency site. Some of the upper class had started lobbying to privatize the school, because of its various enhancements and beauty of the grounds and building, which the Mayor was refusing to do. He claimed that if they wanted a private school they had to pay with private funds rather than public; nevermind that he had yet to figure out how the High School project had been funded. He simply assumed it was one of his myriad contracts had finally come into fruition and found no personal need to mention that. Meanwhile, it was becoming a big political thing and that took it out of the realm of interesting for most high school students, even if the issue actually made the Mayor happy with its distraction from the other events of the night.

Plus, none of that mattered in the face of good food.

“Either way, the ravioli is delicious. Actually everything we’ve tried so far from the buffet is really good. The salad is positively crunchy.” She reached for Buffy’s chemistry notes, which were handily on top of the stack of books, glancing through them quickly for errors. This was something they’d done at lunch since the beginning of the school year, and one of the ways she tried to help her friend. “Say, this is pretty good, Buff. I don’t see anything that needs revising.”

The slayer grinned and stood back up so she could go get some of that yummy food before it was all scarfed away, “Thanks, Willow. Ever since mom and I had that talk with the new school counselor, it seems like I’ve been able to focus a little better. Either that, or I’m a little smarter.” She didn’t mention that she personally thought she was still having some after-effects from Halloween. She didn’t see a need to worry anyone unnecessarily after all. It just seemed that she understood and knew things a little better.

“You were and are always smart, Buffy. It’s just now we know why you switch words. I mean, other than to annoy Giles.”

“Though now Mom says I can’t get away with as much slacking. C'est La Vie. I shall overcome.” The two you women grinned at each other as Willow returned Buffy’s note to the top of the stacks. Then, when Buffy was a little further away and the crowd noise might cover her, she turned to Xander.

“You think she’s different? I mean, like from, you know?”

Xander finished wiping his bowl with a remnant of bread, ate it, and sat back, eyeing the bowl with a touch of speculation. He was still hungry, but it seemed like was always a little hungry lately; even when he felt mostly sated. He patted his stomach and raised his gaze to look Willow in the eye. Then he gave her a lopsided grin. “I think she’s Buffy.”

Reassured, Willow finished her own second helping and considered what she wanted for her third. She was interrupted from her contemplation by a scream. Without even thinking about it, she was standing.

As were the majority of the rest of the students in the cafeteria; including the screamer.

Harmony stood, essentially in the middle of the room, making that high pitched sonic noise of alarm. She was undressed; what was left of her cheerleading outfit was on the ground. She’d somehow been stripped from top to bottom, exposing her in her bra and panties. From an aesthetic sense, she actually looked good and kind of classical in form, given the way she’d covered herself with her hands. All she needed was a bit of ocean and shellfish and she could have modeled for a painting. On the other hand, at her feet, gazing with horrified awareness, was a tumbled Jonathan. His food and other items were scattered on the floor, and on top of Harmony’s ruined clothes. One of his hands held the edge of the cloth of her cheerleading skirt, the other, the empty tray.

“Oh dear.” Willow’s fork, which she had been holding, disintegrated. Not that she noticed.

“Oh wow,” Xander said. His gaze whipped around as if he were looking for something missing. He felt an urge to be helpful and noble, but it was being stymied “I had a jacket, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember you wearing one today,” Willow whispered a reply as a low growling sounded from a table fairly close to Harmony. Then, as that growl seemed to take physical form; very tall, buff and angry physical form, she said to Xander. “Well now Jonathan’s gone and done it. Did you know that Harmony was dating the Basketball team?”

“I was pretty sure I had one this morning. It is fall after all and this morning it was cooler than I expected, but...Wait, what? When did this happen? I thought it was just Ben the not-so-gentle giant?” His eyes widened as realization hit.

“Well, let’s see, in the school paper, it said they officially re-formed the team on Monday, now that they have enough players again. By Tuesday, according to rumor, she was dating Ben and then on Wednesday, somehow, the whole team.”

“And no one said anything? Not even Cordelia?”

Willow’s eyebrows rose, “Would you? Besides, I think Cordelia thought this would do Harmony good. I mean, look at them. They really like her.”

He tilted his head in a “Well…” kind of motion and then grimaced.

They watched, as the team gathered Harmony and moved her gently and protectively to the center, covering her with a varsity jacket which covered her far more than the cheerleading outfit did. At the same time, a smaller group of the height-enhanced students surrounded Jonathan, and started reaching down, growling all the while.

“Oh boy, I can’t watch.” Willow turned away. Xander drew her into a hug.

“I can’t look away…” Xander said in horror.

As Jonathan was lifted, whimpering and quivering, into the air, and fists were cocked to do serious damage, a whistle sounded.

“Okay everyone, settle down!”

Xander sighed in relief as one of the guards marched in, taking charge of the situation. In short order, Jonathan was liberated, the basketball players were pacified with a promise that the situation would be handled, and Harmony was escorted out.

As Harmony walked through the door, followed by a couple of members of the team, Buffy returned to the table, arms laden with plates of food. “Did I miss anything?”

“Only Harmony showing off,” Xander griped.

“So nothing new then.” Buffy set her plates down and got ready to eat, which led her friends to sit down too.

This time it was Willow’s turn to look around for a lost thing. “What happened to my fork?”

-BTVS-

Location: Sunnydale County, Harris Yard - Saturday very early morning; November 8th

Rory Harris wasn’t poor, though some might easily make that mistake based on simple appearances. After all, what rich man owned and operated a wrecking yard? He might have told them, “Someone who didn’t want to be noticed.” Or even, “Someone who knows the value of metal and parts.” But no one asked, which, of course, meant the essential disguise worked. That didn’t mean the assumption did not irk the sometimes irascible man. After all, at one time he worked for a premiere company as one of its researchers. One did not do such without the intelligence to match the specifications.

On the other hand, the yard was profitable enough to be worth running, even if it wasn’t as up and running as he would like, was useful for some things besides storing wrecks, and tended to operate under the radar of those who held power in Sunnydale proper. This was the reason that he lived in the fabricated house-slash-office that was edged at the front and south side of the yard. It wasn’t that great a view, but it was free. The location of the yard, however, was also the reason that he was able to accomplish most aspects of his under-the-table side calling; the one very few of the Harrises acknowledged, but those called LaVelles understood.

While the Harrises appeared to be a fairly mundane family, the LaVelles of the family were not. Unknown to Xander, because Tony did not bother to teach him why his middle name was important, the family influences were much more magically inclined. The majority of LaVelles in the line, however, were just as ignorant of Xander as he was of them and Tony Harris liked it that way; though he wasn’t so far gone in his distrust to fail to follow other family traditions. 

If one were to look at the history of the Harrises, one would find that it was usually tied strongly with duty and honor. Like his brother, Tony, their father, and grandfather, Rory Harris had joined the service for a brief stint, before going on to college, where he’d earned his degrees in computer technology and engineering. The skills he gained still had application in his daily life and he was still known in certain sectors, military and otherwise, for his inventiveness. He’d sold several small inventions and ideas that had gone on to projects that he only tangentially knew about. He never spoke of this to others, just as he never spoke of his mediation between certain tribes of non-humans (or as the local military Initiative might tag them, HSTs), which were generally successful. It sufficed to say that Xander’s “attractiveness,” to all sorts of people was a natural feature of his genetics, far before Halloween.

Rory was not terribly sanguine with his brother’s choices, but he never-the-less had to abide by them for the while, as Xander was a minor and Tony and Jessica were his parents. This did not, however, mean that if he had an opportunity to widen his nephew’s understanding, he wouldn’t use it. The young man’s request for weekend employment seemed heaven-sent; especially now.

Rory finished packing and put everything in his car. Then he went back to his office and waited for Xander and his friends.

-BTVS-

The Harris Yard wasn’t exactly walking distance from Sunnydale proper, but for some reason, it was on a steady bus route. Perhaps if the trio had more familiarity with enterprises such as Willies and Hack’s Magic Bin, they might have understood the why, but none of them had been introduced to the any-being-friendly bar on a certain side of the town, yet, and so they had no reason to suspect, as they passed the slightly abused, but still running 24/7 S-mart at the edge of that same side of town, that there might be an aligning reason. Nor did the Xander or Willow or Dawn really put any thought into the fact that the route actually ran 24/7 and had a double bus system that took passengers from one end of town, to the other; with a central loop that met another 24/7 double bus system in the middle at the station.

This was normal for the young people who took seats on the transit. One could generally walk from main street to the high school and to the Bronze, but this was how they got to the mall and to various other places in Sunnydale. The system was so trusted that people even used it at night, when they just had to get somewhere and did not own a car. Even the slayer used them to get from one cemetery to another; it helped on the nights when she had to hit all twelve cemeteries. The mayor demanded premium service from his public works, with no interruptions either mystical or mundane and he got it; or people and not-so-much-people experienced the pointy end of his displeasure. Sunnydale Syndrome kept humans from really noticing who rode in the back. It was very rarely normals, but those who rode the line, followed the rules; which meant no barbeque fork attacks and no dog maulings on the bus route. The sidewalks away from the route, on the other hand, were fair game, more specifically, fair game at night. The mayor couldn’t completely cut his constituents off, after all he did have contractual obligations.

Xander, Willow and Dawn took seats very close to the front, where they sat and chatted through the whole ride about nothing in particular, thus they had no reason to notice anything different or unusual. By the time they arrived at their chosen destination, they’d managed to lure the bus driver and several others into the conversation, which made the ride pass by quickly and they were almost reluctant to step out. Yet, they did so with cheery waves and farewells and the bus left to carry on its route.

“You know,” said Dawn contemplatively as they started walking the short distance that was left. “Sometimes I think I really get why Mom moved us here, aside from house prices. Sunnydale has some of the nicest people.” Murmurs of agreement met the statement and not just from Willow and Xander. The young people may have noticed the agreement, but still under the safety of the bus route, did not notice who did the answering. It was, at that moment, a good thing.

-BTVS-

The shop bell rang as the trio entered, still chattering convivially. Sunlight gleamed through the windows of the storefront, illuminating the interior. The cashier station was angled to watch the door and provide access to the office behind it. Chairs, some of them empty of odd items, lined up near the window. The decor was at least a decade old, with the newest hanging item being a calendar from 1986. Clutter marked the area, with large and small pieces of random gadgetry and forgotten items of possible usefulness strewn in various places.

“Uncle Rory! We’re here!” Xander called out, even as the older man exited from the office.

“Welcome to my place,” He said as he walked around the counter. “Thought you’d be here a little sooner.”

Dawn said, “There was a little old lady who had to get off the bus at Winter street. It took her awhile.”

“Like, tortoise-with-a-walker-slow-while. We weren’t sure she was going to make that last step, but the bus driver helped her out, in the end.” Willow commented, without heat. She was merely providing a mental visual to a fact.

Rory chuckled and grasped Xander’s hand to draw him in for a buddy hug, then he let him go and offered his hand to the young ladies. They both gripped his hand firmly, accepting the shake. “So, I guess Xander looped you into his plan to supplement his allowance?”

“Make that our allowance, as he said we’d get paid too,” confirmed Dawn.

Rory leaned against the counter. “I admit that was the part of the plan, especially since I received a very interesting phone call from a woman called Joyce. Your mom’s a real pistol. She has some very specific rules for you, young lady. All of which I agreed with, since we all know this can’t be a job, especially at your age. Plus, I don’t want to have to fill out the paperwork and she wants her daughter to enjoy her experiences on the weekend, not just labor. And, we both want you all to be safe. So, limited hours, limited doing, but I like to think of dealing with this yard as if it’s a form of treasure hunting and if you take that perspective, it could be unlimited fun for you. Also, I don’t mind if you explore the yard while you’re here, but wear your hard hats. Xander knows the play rules around here, and you’ll need to abide by them.”

“Hard hats,” Willow commented, thoughtfully. “That sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Rory said. “I remember when you and my nephew used to visit more often. Been awhile. But this should sound familiar too.” He didn’t mention Jesse, as he didn’t want to stir any bad memories. He then listed out some simple rules for them, including a bit of safety awareness and his expectations. “Is everyone okay with that?”

“Yep,” agreed Willow. She was happy for the opportunity to do something different and to make some money of her own, though of the three of them, she had the least amount of worry regarding finances. Since her parents traveled a lot, she tended to have the cash commensurate with living independently. She even had her own checking account. But she never really felt like she earned it. This would be different and much better than babysitting. “It sounds like you have some interesting projects for us.”

“An excellent word choice there, Willow. Let’s say that I have several projects that I think will benefit my young nephew and his friends. And if there is a little cash and other rewards for a job well done, then that’s what Uncles are for, right?”

The three young people nodded earnestly and beamed at him. Willow said, “Xander said you wanted us to organize a room for you?”

“Well, it’s a bit more than that,” Rory hedged. Then he started walking toward the back. “If you’ll come with me?”

A few moments later they exited the office, walked across the drive and entered a different building; one that looked like it used to be a garage in a different life. Rory began explaining, as they scooted in, though not very far, because the room was basically packed almost to the door. “Back when I bought this yard, I intended to make it more than just a place to store the stuff people didn’t want any more and scrap the metal. It used to be a working garage, but I guess whoever had it last decided they weren’t interested in that side of the business. Now, I usually got guys who work with me out in the yard to keep things from being too crazy, but they got plenty to do as it is and you’re probably not going to see much of them, because they usually work during the week. But, I’m thinking that clearing this out could make a good weekend project for a few weeks for some young people. Plus, if you want, you can come by after school, as long as you all come together. I don’t want anyone working in here alone. Okay?” Once again, he got earnest nods and inside he thought what nice, attentive kids they were. “You might not be able to move some of the heavier items by hand, but I got equipment that can do the heavy lifting if you’re willing to learn how to operate it. In fact, if you’re interested, I’d be willing to throw in some tutorials on how to part and restore a car once the garage is empty again.”

“Wait, are you saying, if we clean this out, you’ll not only pay us, but we’ll get a car?”

“Well, that’s probably a bit down the road, don’t you think?” He indicated the garage,which was packed nearly to the brim. “You gotta dig out the place. Oh, and if you find something you think you might find useful, go ahead and keep it unless it’s something that really belongs in the garage or at the yard. If you have a question about it, ask. But otherwise, don’t stress about it. I don’t know what’s in here and haven’t missed it, so if it goes, I’m not going to gripe about it. Just, be sensible, and if you find the Hope Diamond, consider sharing the wealth,” he joked.

“Yeah,” Xander said slowly, but with a gleam in his eye, “I think we can manage that.”

Rory then clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, that gives me a chance to mention the other thing. I’ve got to head out of town for an emergency. I’m not leaving you without an adult present at the yard, but Mich is working on some wiring on the big magnet and you can plan on him being in and out to check on you guys somewhat randomly. Maybe. He won’t say much, if he does show, but if you need him, he’ll be there. Since you’re going to be so close to the store front anyway, I’ll leave the sign flipped for service. Xander’s watched the counter before, so he knows how things work. I don’t know that you’ll hear the bell out here, but most people know to come looking for me if I’m not in the office anyway. I’ll lock that up, of course, but think you can handle watching things and start working on this…” He looked at his watch, “from nine to noon?”

The young man straightened his back a little with pride at being acknowledged for a skill and then nodded. “Yeah, I think we can handle that.”

“Great. Xander knows where to chuck the stuff that needs to go and where the mop and bucket is, just in case. I’ll leave you to it otherwise. Here’s the key to the office and the key to the garage. Just take ‘em home with you and I’ll come get ‘em later, Xander. Might be Tuesday before you see me and that’s when I’ll pay you. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, Uncle Rory.”

\----- BTVS -----

After a few more instructions and a bit of guidance, to help them get started Xander’s uncle departed, leaving them to contemplate just where to start on the massive project.

“I’m almost afraid to touch it,” Willow commented after a few moments of staring at the wall of accumulated scrap and materials and things which rose from floor to ceiling and crossed from wall to wall.

“Me too,” admitted Xander. “I think a wheelbarrow would help.”

“And a shovel.” Dawn offered. “Maybe.”

“That would mean digging from the bottom, when really...”

“We should start from the top.”

“Ladder?”

“Yeah. I think. Xander’s the tallest, so he could stand on it, hand down to one of us, while one of us makes sure it’s steady.”

“Maybe you ought to show us where the gloves and hats are, Xander. I’m sure glad I wore my oldest jeans.”

“Good planning that.” He approved, as he held open the door so they could go get the hardware they needed.

“Speaking of planning,” Dawn offered. “I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah Dawn?” Willow replied. She put her hands in her pockets, experimenting with the idea of walking cool, but then changed her mind. She liked the swing of her arms.

“Well. I’ve been talking with my friends,” Dawn stated carefully. “And some of them remember and some don’t.”

“Remember what, Dawn?” Xander asked evenly. Both he and Willow noticed the flash of disappointment in the younger girl’s eyes and that her body language shifted.

“Never mind.”

“Don’t say, ‘never mind,’,” Willow prompted. “We’re just same-paging here. Can’t know what you’re talking about without the full story, right?”

“Oh.” Dawn’s posture straightened a bit. “Sure. Right. Halloween. I’ve been asking my friends about Halloween.”

“Ah,” Xander nodded. “A good question.” Again he held the door open, this time to let them into store front.”

“One we’ve also been exploring. How much do people remember about Halloween? It’s been on our minds too.” Willow admitted.

“And?” Dawn asked hesitantly. Xander opened a closet door, reached in and began handing out gloves and hats.

“Most really don’t remember anything. At all. Or they’re like Buffy and they remember enough to maybe pass some history tests or have a new habit.” Willow said as she took hers and started putting them on.

“Yeah, like Aphrodesia?” Xander contributed. “She used to be a Cordette to the extreme and a red-head. Now... How to describe it?”

“She’s styling more to the dark side?” Willow offered. Then she provided an even briefer explanation. “She Gothed. Cordy would eject her, but she’s being Goth in Prada. It’s kind of fascinating actually. And... and...,” Willow cleared her voice a bit, as if she were a bit embarrassed, “kinda pretty, in a not-a-vampire kind of way.”

Dawn didn’t quite double take, but she understood clique politics and she knew Cordelia. “That’s unexpected.”

“Ah, but we’re not finished with our survey answer.” Xander tapped Dawn’s hat with his fingertips. “Because, wait, there’s more.”

“Oh?”

He closed the closet door and started walking to the store’s back door. They, of course, followed. “Yep, because here’s what we also know. Some of us may remember more than we’re admitting to.”

“How much are we not admitting to?”

“Well, more, more.” Willow said. “Like, a lot. As in, enough of the memories that I’m a bit afraid of the answer to the real questions I have. I’ve been too scared to really do anything about it, to be honest.”

“Oh. Wow. That makes me feel a ton better.” Dawn beamed.

Xander slung his arm in a friendly gesture around her shoulders and intoned. “You are not alone!”

“Definitely not. I mean, Xander and I haven’t said in so many words, but yeah.” Willow opened the shed door and then said, “Ooh, a Digger Pro 2000. I hear the Shoveler uses these. Mine!”

“Hey!” Dawn protested. “You gotta share.”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of tools for everyone in here,” Xander soothed. “And you will note that we are geeking over hardware. I think it’s safe to say there have been repercussions. And, honestly, can you think of a better place to find out how much?” He looked out at the garage.

They all looked at each other, then grinned.

–--- BTVS –---

More Notes:

I'd used the End Notes feature, but it followed through the other chapters and I didn't like that... so.... here are the rest of the disclaimers:

A/N I ended up actually writing up a whole new class of being for this story, (I have a document called Builder Lore, which is something like 16 pages long now) based on some generalized specs and some creative thought on what I wanted the characters to to experience. The Builder Lore link, in case this one doesn’t come through during posting, can be found on the series page. According the Lore: A Builder is a species and class of person whose very nature is that of creation, construction and building. 

That is what this story is about. Mostly. 

Added: 9FEB14 - For those who are interested, I have issued this challenge: http://www.tthfanfic.org/Challenge-7849 

A/N - This story is so very AU. Not just because Dawn exists before canon, but because I don’t actually plan on following the tv/other storylines too much or for too long; unless it somehow fits or needs to be written. Also, this story definitely involves magic. And while I personally believe that magic exists, there are those among us who need this disclaimer. So for purposes of respect to the cooperative multi-verse in which we live: *stamp* AU *endstamp*

A/N - Sexuality - I nearly clicked all three options at TtH, because any of them are likely. If you’ve read my stories, you know I’m equal opportunity with a leaning toward polyamory. However, so far this story has yet to head in the sexy-smexy direction. So I have no idea. I will thus, disclaim, but… really, who knows? *stamp* Polyamory *endstamp*

A/N - This story uses a Buffy-world setting, but even then, it’s only lightly applied. However: *stamp* MAYHEM! *endstamp*

Inspirational Sound: See original Builder. I couldn’t find one for this story yet. I may list one later if I find it.

And that's it. Happy Reading! :)


	2. Chapter 2

BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog pt 2

They barely fit the wheelbarrow in past the door and even then it was slightly catercorner to the jenga-like stack. They set the ladder to the opposite side of the wheelbarrow with the premise that they would work one end to the other and zig back in the opposite direction to avoid the chance of pile deconstruct. It was going to be tricky. They had a plan, however, and were going to stick to it. They just had to get started.

Xander clambered up the ladder, grateful that his uncle was not a cheapskate when it came to tools. There wasn’t even a wobble, and that was not because Dawn was there to hold it up; though, obviously, she did help keep things steady. As he climbed, he had a brief moment of self consciousness when he thought he caught Dawn eyeing his backside in a predatory way. He’d shaken his head a bit and by the time he was done, the look in her eye was gone and replaced with a perfectly innocent smile. By the time he reached the top of the pile, he was pretty sure he’d imagined the whole thing and was just glad he made it up the ladder without some ridiculous clumsiness setting in. 

Which was good, because by then he had a chance to get a good look at the top. It was even more puzzle-ish than he’d originally thought and quite intimidating enough without adding in unnecessary physical comedy. Still, they really only had two choices: Go for it, or don’t. 

He reached for a likely looking piece of rod-like metal and quietly sighed in relief as it pulled away from the stack with hardly a jostle. “This might take a bit,” he said.

“I’m good with that,” said Willow, who took the rod as it was handed to her and put it in the wheelbarrow. “It’ll give us time to talk about what we were talking about earlier.”

He handed her another piece, and it too got placed in the wheelbarrow. “So, then, let’s talk. Who wants to say something first?”

“Me!” Dawn said, “I’m kind of tired of dancing around things anyhow. Has anyone else been starving?”

“Yes!” Willow replied, very firmly. “I thought it was just me. I mean, Xander, he’s a growing boy, so it all looks normal with him, but I’m eating like…like…Buffy!”

“Hah! I know.” Dawn commisserated. “I mean, I’ve always been able to tease her about the bacon, on Saturday mornings when mom goes on the whole big breakfast let’s all bond with food thing, but this time they were teasing me! I’m a growing girl, sure, because yeah, taller than my sister, but… I have been sneaking snacks in class. I never do that. And I’ve lost weight. I’d worry, except, I can’t seem to make myself worry about it. I just...eat like I really, really mean it when there’s food and drink available, you know?”

“And have you noticed the sleep thing? I mean, the first day after, I slept almost the whole day. Could hardly wake up. But then Monday came and suddenly, phfft. Who needs a lot of sleep?” Willow started and Dawn almost nodded her head off.

“I caught Buffy coming back into the house at 4 a.m. Not because she woke me, but because…”

“You were already awake.”

“Yep. I’d slept a good six hours, woke up and started rearranging Buffy’s bedroom. I mean,standard, I usually sleep ten, if not more. Mom said it’s because I’m a growing girl and the body needs time to adjust, but my body, apparently thinks differently.”

“Buffy’s bedroom?”

“Yeah. It’s farthest from Mom’s and I didn’t want to wake her. I came this close to doing Mom’s office.” Dawn pinched her fingers together, then sighed and shrugged. “But, then I realized I didn’t want to get grounded.”

Xander, who they’d almost forgot, except for the fact he kept handing things down, started laughing. “I’d have paid good money to see Buffy’s face. How did she take it?”

“Pretty well, considering. Yeah she was shocked and a little mad that I did it without her, at first. Then she realized I had to clean her room to change it around and it did look nice. Plus, she was wanting me to do her closet anyway, so, really, one chore down. Plus, I found this great trunk in the attic and put it by the foot of her bed. You know, for her sharp and pointy things. Though I didn’t tell her I did it for that. She likes to pretend I don’t know, even though I was right there with you all in the library last week. Denial ain’t just a river where she’s concerned. Anyhow, she liked it enough to say I could wear some of her clothes,” Dawn said perkily.

Xander twisted a bit to say something to Dawn, grabbing another piece to pull out and in doing so, he accidentally bumped against part of the stack with his shoulder. 

It rumbled dangerously and they all stood still, eyes wide with trepidation, as if that motionless moment would somehow influence things in their favor. A small pile of bits and bobs and nuts and bolts and random things sprung out somewhere in the middle, as if it were water pushed through a pipe, dropping loudly on the floor in a small rivulet of scrap. Then the rumble stopped. 

For a few seconds more, no one dared breath. 

Then Willow said. “Maybe I ought to move the wheelbarrow, yeah?”

Xander gulped and nodded. “Sure. It ought to be closer anyway, so you… you don’t have to carry stuff so far.”

“Is it safe enough for me to get the broom?” Dawn asked, meaning, could she trust Xander not to fall off the ladder while she took two steps away.

“Do it. Broom and dustpan and wheelbarrow.”

“Oh my.” Willow tacked on, causing a stifled, slightly desperate giggle from Xander. Dawn quickly gathered the fallen materials off the floor and dumped them in the wheelbarrow that Willow moved with caution. Amazingly, it fit, though now they were all cramped a together, with only a small exit toward the door. Xander, meanwhile, waited and held very still until things were fixed and moved and the younger teen was back, holding the ladder. 

Another semi-collective exhale and everyone was in their places.

“Ready?” The word came out far more squeaky than Xander intended, and he coughed a little to regain his usual baritone. 

“Other than thinking that Uncle Rory may have overestimated how easy this project is supposed to be,” Willow commented. 

“Yep.” Dawn’s affirmative was a little less acerbic, but its brevity held its own punctuation. 

“Right then.” Xander turned back, a little more carefully than he’d previously done and, thankfully, nothing moved. Once again he reached, pulling another item off the top. Carefully. He handed it down without looking back.

Thus, he did not see Dawn reach for it. Nor did he see the item disappear as it touched her hand. Both Willow and Dawn paused and then the younger girl said, “Guys! I think I just remembered something really important.”

Even as she was saying that, the great mound of material trembled; as did the ground under their feet. 

“I didn’t touch anything,” disavowed Xander. This statement caused them all to glance around warily. The trembling escalated. 

“Uh. I don’t think that’s…”

“We should get out…”

“But this is important…”

Xander pointed toward the door and started scrambling down the ladder. “Doorframe! Doorframe!”

He didn’t have to say more. Certain words tended to become shorthand code and those meanings were often ingrained deeply; especially once one hit the educational system or lived in an area long enough. Doorframe when the world rocked underfoot was easily understood. 

But even as they rushed, all three realized it was not going to be safer, in this one case. No way. No how. Not with that pile behind them. Xander grabbed the girls’ hands and somehow they rapidly snaked around the wheelbarrow without banging knees or more vulnerable parts. The three of them erupted out the door, flinging themselves to the side just as the ground seemed to heave itself under their feet. 

They stumbled into the air together, lifted in tiny flight as a mighty crash and timbering sound groaned into being behind them. Parts and pieces rolled and tumbled out the door, like a great tide. The wheelbarrow “floated,” carried by the pressure of the wave of objects that poured and crushed out the door. 

Somehow, their hands were still clasped. Dawn had time to scream out, “We’re builders! I remembered that we were Builders.” Before the surging scrap rose, flowed over and buried them rapidly. 

A minute and some change later, the earth ceased its complaint, and the scrap rumbled and rolled to a stop, though some small bits continued to tumble until they hit a wall or other object.  
Aside from random plinking and small clangs as things settled, the noise drifted into a near silence and everything seemed to still. 

Thirty seconds later, a large burst of air and dust and teeny-tiny particles poofed up from the pile that had covered the three young people. Then another and another. With each round, the random junked equipment and items sunk in, forming a circular divot; as if the cone of the pile was reversing.

This continued for a bit until the disheveled young people were able to sit upright without having to compete with scads of junk trying to take up their space. In fact, there was now a wide circle of nothing except dusty ground surrounding them. 

Xander pushed against his head, slapping near his temple as if he were a tv set trying to get a signal without real effort. Either that or he was trying to get dust out of his ear. Willow stared curiously around herself as if she hadn’t seen anything like what she was seeing before. Dawn patted her stomach and burped. “I feel oddly filled and satisfied, but not nearly full. I think I could go for more,” she said, somewhat surprised.

Willow nodded vaguely and said, “Yeah, me too.”

Dawn flipped her left hand open, exposing a palm full of gold coins, and said, “Oh, look. I got change.”

“Better keep that. Might need it later,” Xander said casually as he finally stopped trying to re-align himself the slap-the-head way. She shrugged and then put the coins in one of her pockets. He blinked a few times and gazed around himself as he resettled his hard hat, which somehow had not completely fallen off his head. “Oh wow. The information grid. It’s back.”

Willow hummed an agreement and slowly stood up. “I’ve been running a diagnostic.” She paused and gasped. “Energy wise, still not up anywhere near par yet. So I can’t access anything except the basic stuff that’s available during a rest up and recuperation. Oh, but there is some information on how to absorb things to speed that up a bit.” She glanced down at the piles of stuff that were left around them. “That does explain the missing items,” she murmured. “You know, like that jacket you thought you brought that day with Harmony in the cafeteria, Xander. And now I know what happened to Mr. Lotso.”

Dawn asked, because, really, she had to. “Mr. Lotso?”

“A stuffed teddybear in my room; a Lots-O’ Huggin Bear. Xander knows. Uncle Abner gave him to me a long time back. I kept him on my best bookshelf, so he wouldn’t get smooshed and I could always see him. Lately though, he’d get this weird look in its eyes. It was concerning. At first I thought Mom may have taken him for the annual snuggly bath. Either that, or he ran away. But Mom said she hadn’t and I’m pretty sure stuffed bears don’t just get up and walk out the door and now I think I ate him in my sleep. Well, him and a half shelf worth of books.”

Both Xander and Dawn paused to listen to the babble and gave Willow a look of consternation, but she wasn’t paying attention to them. Instead she reached out with her hand, hovering it over some of the scrap; of which there was still lots and lots surrounding them, leading back to the garage. An intense expression covered her face and her hand trembled, then stilled. A rusty, but still mostly whole bumper came apart, with the pieces falling before disappearing into fine particles which disappeared as if sucked away. Then the bumper and its residue were gone; completely deconstructed. 

She turned to smile at them, triumphant. “My other self left a ‘read me first.” Then her gaze seemed to turn inward as she began to recite, “She said, ‘A Builder is always a Builder and once a Builder, always a Builder. This understanding is fundamental to what we are, what we always will be. Even though we left, you could not go back to what you were. You could only wait until you awakened enough to accept the experience, though we suspected, because of who and when you are, that it would not take long for you to regain your understanding. After all, we were once like you, in our time and place. Though our changes happened for different reasons. The multiverse is complicated that way. 

“Added on top of that, you are of us now, as if you were our children, because of the magic that brought us here. But we belong elsewhere as you may, someday, also find true for yourselves. Thus it is to be a Builder. We build and travel as we feel the need or desire to do so. Sometimes we are obliged to leave, as we were this time. 

“So we go, but we leave what we are with you, so that when you forget, you may also remember and not have to start from where we began. This is a gift that we, as your other selves, may freely give. All that we are, you can be and probably are. Xander believes that you will be journeymen, even though your time with us was so very short. We hope this is true, for we found no indication of any like us nearby on this world or in this system; and thus, no Master to guide you as we had when we changed. We did not have time to determine if there might be Builders farther away. You will have to discover that yourself, if you’re so inclined.

“Because we could find no one to help you other than ourselves, we leave you what we know and the blueprints we have gathered. Unfortunately, because of the night’s activities we can not leave you any true substance of what we had, save the tools that you claimed as your own. So you will have to find ways to fill your own store of resources. If ever you have need of us, you may think of us and our …,” Willow paused and then said, “... well, it’s like a computer avatar, isn’t it. Not quite holographic, but I can see the other me right now. She’s standing by you, Xander. Only… well, not quite there. So yeah, maybe holographic selves will display. I think that’s what she said. Sort of. Either that, or soul’s copy...” Willow’s attention drifted enough as she was talking that she was suddenly back in the present moment, trying to explain what she saw. “And that’s pretty much the message anyway, aside from we can ask questions as we need to.” 

“I have this sudden urge to go rushing home to look at my character sheet,” Xander commented. Then he blinked. “Oh wait. There it is,” he said with a surprised chuckle. “Only, now it’s not so much a sheet, as … well…”

“A status update,” Willow completed for him; because, once he mentioned it, she had to look at hers too. “I think we have Personal AIs, which give us information. One of my updates says, I have a zero frogs in a radius of one hundred feet listed. Very handy to know.” At this point, Willow actually sighed in small relief. Then she continued. “So, PAI is a good description, though I don’t know that what we’re seeing is really computerish. It’s just there. Kind of hard to describe, other than, if I were playing a computer game, it would be the console stuff, only prettier and more complete.” She blinked once. “Oh good. It does turn off. So, yeah, I’ll be able to sleep. I was a little worried.”

“Yeah. That is good news. Sleep is important to me. I like the dreaming.” Xander nodded. A long time ago, he and his friends had discussed what Builders were and had only come up with vague ideas; similar to changelings, nanotechnology, magical beings, changed humans. They all fit, and the concept was more like “all of the above,” but they weren’t using perfect descriptions so much as creating concepts. However, they were agreed that even super-beings needed rest now and then and even if they didn’t need much of it, they ought to be able to if they wanted to. Thank goodness they qualified that in the original concepts, though he didn’t doubt that their other selves were real people. Now. He thought maybe Halloween created a whole new universe and, it might be the Builder in him, but he was okay with that. Meanwhile, he intended to rest quite a lot and be comfy doing it. As he came to that conclusion, the status updated and gave him a countdown to when he might want to take his next recreational nap, plus a percentage of how much energy would be returned for it; as opposed to a regular night’s sleep. Cool. 

Willow said, “They left us so much, Xander. The other Us. The other…” 

“Builders.” Xander finished for her, smiling and accepting what was true with an ease that surprised him. On the other hand, it was a happy kind of surprise, so maybe that was very okay. He really wasn’t that unhappy with not knowing everything. If it was really important, Willow would figure it out.

Dawn grinned. “Suddenly it makes sense, doesn’t it? We don’t just have memories and weird cravings. We’re something new in this world. I kind of like that.”

Willow and Xander nodded in agreement and understanding. After all, she was the slayer’s sister and every teen had the urge to be different and unique and included and important at the same time. 

Meanwhile, the older teens both gazed around, seemingly at random, though Dawn knew they were really measuring and assessing and adapting to this new thing; like she was.

It was then that they heard someone running toward them. The three youths turned to look, scrambling into position so they could stand and fight if they had to and so caught the moment when a tall, muscular guy dressed to work dirty, nearly stumbled to a halt before he could tumble into the long trail of stuff. “You kids alright!” 

Xander raised a hand and waved. He shouted back,”We’re fine! We’re fine.” He knocked his hand on his hat, with thudded dully. “Had the gear on. Totally okay. You okay Mich?”

“Great. Fine. Thank God. Your Uncle would have killed me.” The guy closed his eyes and dropped his hands on his thighs so he could bend over and catch his breath. 

“Nah! But he might have maimed you a little!” Xander called back as he navigated his way around the pile in front of him to try to reach their not-quite-a-babysitter, followed by Dawn and Willow. They hopped and hurtled and edged around the stuff until they were only a few feet away from Mich, who finally straightened up as they drew closer. 

“Am not in a hurry to find that out, young man,” Mich quipped back, as he settled down a bit more. “Glad to see you’re all okay. No bumps or bruises I should know about?”

“Nope, we’re good.” Xander glanced around, “But the clean up is gonna take a bit.”  
“Yeah, you should see the yard proper. Gonna have to call the guys and get the dozers out. Better to get some of this handled now, rather than later. You all plan to get this stuff?” He waved his hand at the long pile of junk and glanced at the tipped over wheelbarrow, which slid to the stop against the main office wall. Its wheel was still lazily turning.

“Yeah, we can at least make a good dent in it, I think. It might even be easier. Did you ever look in there?” Xander waved a hand towards the open door of the garage. “Talk about higher and deeper.”

Mich laughed and slapped Xander’s shoulder. “You’re alright kid. So then we got a plan. You and the young ladies, try and get a path large enough for a truck to pass into the yard. After that, if there is time, clear out the door, then clear what you can of the rest of this mess. The Dumpster was still upright when I passed it, so you can just fill it.”

Xander glanced back and got nods from Willow and Dawn. “Yeah, we can work with that.”

“Great. Great. I’m gonna go make some calls.”

-BTVS-

By the time Mich came back out of the main office, the wheelbarrow was well on its way to full. Xander, Willow and Dawn were either raking or shoveling with a will. Mich could already see that path he’d requested starting to form. He waved at them. “Looks good!” Then, after they waved in return, he started back to do his part in clearing the fiasco. 

They actively scraped and shoved, waiting until he’d completely disappeared from sight before stopping and glancing at each other. 

“So, I vote that we discontinue this whole back breaking sweaty work-like behavior in favor of turning this stuff into some usable resources. Anyone against?”

“Not against, so much as I think we ought to take this wheelbarrow full to the dumpster, just for appearances sake. And then maybe two or three more, just to be sure that we've been seen doing that. But yeah, I realize now that the constantly empty feeling was just that. We were at a huge “extras,” low. Our Builder ancestors kind of tapped us out. Thank goodness your Uncle Rory has kind of given us carte blanche. I say we use it too.”

“My Uncle Rory? My Uncle? Ooh, better be glad he’s not around to hear you say it like that Willow-friend.” Xander teased.

Willow flushed a bit, then said, “My Bad. Uncle Rory said… what I said before.”

Xander grinned and flipped some detritus off his rake into the wheelbarrow. “Better.” 

After that, the trio set to finishing the first round and then played rock, paper, scissors to see who got to do the actual pushing of the wheelbarrow as they made their way to the trash receptacle, with Dawn winning with a sly paper maneuver, after Willow had rocked Xander out and had tried to rock again. Whistling like Disney Dwarves the three of the carted the stuff to where it needed to go, with Willow carrying her shovel and Xander the two rakes. 

Then given the height of the dumpster it was a matter of cooperative rake and shovel to move everything back out. 

By the time they were done with that, they were dirtier, but also more satisfied with themselves. They prepared to leave the area, placing the tools into the wheelbarrow. It wasn’t until they finished with all the clattering and had yet to start really getting into chatting again that they heard it; a tiny animal peep. 

And then another.

The three young people stilled and then looked around, wide eyed. The yip was very faint, almost too much so. 

“Use Look,” Xander said, reminding them all that they had a gift they could use for just this sort of thing. 

Just a few seconds later, Willow pointed down, just on the side of the dumpster where the shadow of the morning sun striking against the container darkened the ground. “There. Something is in a bag.”

Xander crouched beside the dumpster, pushing forward into the dark to reach in and grab the tail end of the tied off cloth bag. 

It was hard to be gentle with the dragging, but he tried and whatever was inside still cried out, causing all of them to feel a bout of compassion and trepidation; enough of which caused many internal winces.

“Be careful,” Dawn said, kneeling beside Xander, and meaning several things besides watching what he was doing. 

The young man didn’t really have to be told, but he worked at unknotting the bag with an expression of deep focus. The bag shifted and moved, as he worked, and he tried to be quick because of the tiny cries of distress. 

And then, abruptly, the knot was undone and the bag, which turned out to be a torn pillowcase, fluttered open. 

All three of them gasped, both in offense and charity. “It’s a puppy.” Xander said. His eyes grew hot as they narrowed in feeling and anger toward the anonymous someone who had done this and a part of him flushed with rage.

“No. Two puppies.” Willow exclaimed, as she reached to touch what she thought were two tiny little creatures; which caused them to move. Which revealed a new truth.

“No,” Dawn said, as they all stilled. “It’s one puppy.”

“Two heads.” Xander said. 

“Very tiny heads and four tiny paws and oh…” Willow said, fascinated, “two tiny dingle dangles.”

Xander couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “Dingle dangles. Is that a scientific term?”

“Hush up!” Willow slapped his arm. “You know how my mom is.”

He was still chortling as he said, “I know. I know. A professional psychologist and she can’t use the right words for the talk. My mom is tougher than your mom,” he sing-songed, but Willow ignored him successfully, because she had a lot of practice with this particular joke-set. Instead she looked to see if there were any more sacks of puppy-babies, which there weren’t; much to her relief.

Dawn said, “You ought to check the info grab. According to what I’m seeing, this is an honest-to-goodness Hellhound, a rare creature not to be confused with a Hellgate Demon, which because it eats brains is often incorrectly designated a Hellhound. Hellhounds, on the other hand, are generally like regular dogs gastronomically speaking, and are native to several dimensions and planets, including Earth. But are super rare and highly prized by their owners for being excellent guard dogs and family friendly. Hellhounds are very protective of children of the family and have even been used as nannies. They have a reputation for being ferocious in a fight, terrific guardians, and great messenger dogs because of how fast they are when they reach full size. Myth ties them with the afterlife and portals. On many worlds a version of their image is used as the messenger service symbol. 

“This wee boy, since, Willow has confirmed its sex, is likely a runt, because it is way tiny for even a regular large sized dogs. But even the runts of a Hellhound pack are highly valued. Most Hellhounds are gifted to others and rarely sold. This one was likely stolen from its mother and then rejected by whoever took it for being too small. Which probably means whoever did that may be trying to sell his siblings, though they likely wouldn’t be that much bigger. The analysis indicates that the puppy is approximately 7 weeks old. Still a little young to be out on its own, but it’s probably old enough to eat some solid foods. Right now, if it were at home, it’d still be nursing from Mom and nibbling at kibble. No cows milk, though, because that way leads to ickiness that I don’t care to deal with. I’m guessing that he hasn’t been fed much since the sack it was in is not actually that dirty right now. Either that, or the sack wasn’t really there all that long, which may be a strong possibility considering.”

“What do you mean considering?” Willow asked.

“Well, it seems the earthquake we felt wasn’t all that natural. More like a portal popping really loudly (on a seismic scale) then disappearing. So maybe someone was in a hurry to get rid of the evidence.”

“Oh boy.” 

“That said, most Hellhounds stay with their parental pack for a few months, so they can be trained properly before being gifted.”

“Which means,” Xander said, heavily, “Several someones are out there and at least very one oh one Dalmatians kind of upset, but with no barking brigade to lead the way. And it would behoove us to take very good care of this guy while we have him in our care. You know, just in case, those someones come our way. We don’t want to be mistaken for the bad guy.”

“We should tell Giles,” Willow began. “Oh, and Buffy.”

“Buffy, I’m not too worried about, because she’ll see what we see and go aw. But no, we should definitely not tell Giles,” Xander objected. He swaddled the dog in the cleanest part of the pillowcase, after tearing off the dirtiest. Then he lifted the tiny creature into his hands and held it near his heart. “I guarantee you our favorite Brit is not Hell-anything friendly. He’d probably want us to kill it. Though he’d word his reasons in a very in a very formal and literate way. And, if our information is correct, which I have to believe it is, then this baby is innocent of anything remotely Hell-like. Except for its breed’s name.”

Willow started to refute and then rethought things. She touched one of the tiny noses, which was warm, though the puppy seemed less distressed than a few moments ago. “We need to get it to a vet then.They could tell us what to feed it and maybe help with finding whoever the owner is.”

“Seriously?” Dawn said. 

Willow sighed. “Yes. Seriously. I’m not talking an average veterinarian. I mean, someone out there has to know how to take care of these things and this is Sunnydale. I can practically guarantee we could find someone if we looked. I just need access to Google for a bit.”

“But would it be the right kind of someone? Plus, we still have a job to do,” Xander pointed out. “And that is a priority, because we also just had an earthquake. We were doing something important before junior here, fell in our laps.”

“Food and water, Xander. And a quiet place. We don’t know when he was last fed and how long he was in that sack. Though, given the sack wasn’t wet, I think Dawn is right. Maybe we have some time before he’s hungry. But we don’t know his real condition. I think I remember saying something like this before, but our AIs allow us to analyze a bunch of things and be correct enough to make good guesses when we have to, but we still have a lot we don’t know.”

Xander looked up to the sky, as if praying, then he took a big breath. “So. Change of plan. I know the only stuff we have to work with is the junk in the drive and the garage. I know we’re tired from last week and the status bars say our Builder magic is low, which means anything we make won’t gleam like a starship, but I believe this counts as an emergency. Do you agree?”

“Xan…” Willow began.

Xander looked her in the eye and said firmly, “Game Call. Uncle Rory definitely, really needs our help now, especially since he is not here. And he still needs a working garage that will allow us to eventually make a kickass car. We need a place for a very special kind of person who can fix the kind of problem we have…” He lifted the puppy as a short demonstration,”... and a kennel for the wee guy here, plus the stuff to take care of him until we can find his home. If we find it. That garage would be big enough once we got rid of the junk inside. And this is an emergency, because this puppy’s life, and maybe ours, is at stake. We aren’t going to try to build to impress, but we’re gonna have to do it as right as we can. Do you agree?”

She glanced down at the puppy who now had its eyes closed, but one of it’s heads still managed to lick her finger. She swallowed. “Agreed. But I’m worried.”

“Fair enough.” Xander turned his attention to Dawn, who looked scared, but determined. 

“Agreed. But you know we haven’t got a lot of store. And no minions, because we haven’t had a chance to build what creates them yet. It’s gonna take finagling, even with all the stuff that we can absorb here. The transitions will be hell because we’re just coming off a genuine Big Job Xan. Technically our predecessors’ first and definitely ours. And that was with a huge magical boost and our other selves doing the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t worry. We can do this. I have a plan. Or I will by the time we get to the garage.” He rolled up from his knees to standing again, puppy, still safely held; both heads laid against his chest. 

“Plans are not what I’m worried about. Pain is. Because, I guarantee you, this is gonna ouch by the time were done.” Willow said, but even as she said it, she grabbed the handle of the wheelbarrow and lifted. 

Then the three started back.


	3. Chapter 3

BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog pt 3

They gave the puppy some water, then placed it in a tall cardboard box with shredded paper in Uncle Rory’s office. It peeped at and scrambled after them in alarm as they turned to go, but Willow thought to turn on the radio with its audio set real low. “It used to help me when I felt lonely,” she said and then she promised she would be back very soon. The soft music seemed to help, and they closed the door to the office, knowing they had little choice at this time. It was hard to ignore the don’t-go yips.

Then they got to work. Once they gave up even the semblance of normal pick up effort, however, and focused on evaluating, organizing and deconstructing the accumulated junk as fast as possible, the clean up went much faster than anyone could ever have expected; even with the short learning curve. Stuff that turned out not to be junk, they “stored,” in their personal inner spaces. Stuff that was just junk was deconstructed for the material and monetary gain so it could be used as something else. Part of the deconstruction contributed to their energy field increasing their low-store of Builder energy to something that was much less dire. 

They knew it would all be spent again soon, but they felt better. The grounds around the garage were cleared in ten minutes, including the random old tires and odd goods that probably hadn’t been part of Uncle Rory’s plan; but that got gone too. They needed it, so they used it. They also, with a touch of caution, stepped into the yard beyond the garage and cleared a quick path, with enough room for some parking. The fallen heaps and dead cars that blocked the way disappeared, leaving clean, graveled ground. The temptation to go further existed, but they had a mission, so once done they left to deal with the interior of the garage; somehow without encountering Mich, who when he did come upon that area riding one of the bulldozers, had ended up scratching his temple in true bafflement. Then he’d gotten busy and started working on the path.

Even with all that, the interior of the garage took longer, because they had to be careful not to deconstruct everything. Still by the time they were done, the building was completely empty. Nothing was left, except the bones and the exterior. 

This was when Dawn retrieved the box of puppy, to provide inspiration and gain puppy approval for work done, and then Xander called forth the sawhorse table and several blueprints. That simple “trick” had actually brought out some exhales of relief, because it meant they had power to work with now. 

Tacking the blueprint models down, Xander put a blank in the middle and began to rapidly measure and draw, with Willow watching over his shoulder. A minute or so into his planning she said, “Wait! Wait. Stop! You can’t do that!” Then she took the pencil from him and did something different, wiping and redrawing as she went. 

Then it was Xander’s turn to complain that you “can’t put the lift there,” as he grabbed the writing utensil back and he wiped and redrew on the plan. 

Dawn watched this go back and forth, until suddenly both Willow and Xander had stepped away from the drawing board to emphatically declare preferences; with much hand waving and gestures. She glanced down at the puppy, who now that real people were around had settled into a firm sleep. Then she glanced back at Xander and Willow.

Puffing a breath, she sidled to the board, looked down at drawing which combined several good ideas, but was aesthetically nonsensical and declared, “Abomination! Nope, can’t have that. So it won’t be a starship. It may be all sorts of mishmash, but no reason for it not to shine.” So saying, she pasted a blue transparency over the original and started making several adjustments, making changes as she heard Xander or Willow make good, useful comments within their “discussion,” of the issue.

She had just put in a finishing touch when she heard, first Xander and then Willow, in that tone of voice that said that the compromises were still tender, say, “Fine!” 

“Great! Glad you could finally come to an agreement,” Dawn said, bouncing on her toes a little. “Come and take a look and then, guys, let’s get started. Time’s a-wastin’.” 

Xander and Willow were at the table in a flash, instantly reviewing what Dawn had done. The comments ranged from, “Oh, yeah, that should work,” to “Nice one!” 

“Excellent work, Dawnster. This is way doable.” Xander gave the young lady a firm pat on the back. “Forgot we could use extended spaces and that it didn’t have to all be in one place. Good call.” 

“I gotta agree. I was worried about the clunky interface, but you’ve got that handled just right,” Willow added.

“Great. So…”

Xander clapped his hands together.. “Let’s get this done.”

-BTVS-

Every now and then Rory’s normal crew passed the garage. Despite driving heavy machinery, the a cacophony of sound could be heard as they passed; the harsh, sharp thud of hammers, metal squealing, wood against saw. Flashes of light and color could be seen through the aged, dirty windows. The smell of sawdust and metal burn permeated the air.

Nobody stopped to question what was going on, because Mich, who had no idea anything unusual was happening and had been diligently out working in the yard, had told the guys that Rory had hired three young people to do some work and that they were doing what they’d been told to do. Thus, the crew drove or walked by, aware of the activity, but ultimately oblivious to the changes being wrought.

They might have said something if they’d actually stayed to witness the transformation. One moment the garage looked like it had for years, dilapidated, paint peeled and unkempt. Then, with a visible ripple, the garage transformed. It expanded outward and upward, staying somehow within its allotted location, yet allowing enough space to modernize the current available entries and to add a few new ways to get in and out; including a set of see-through double doors which replaced the broken door caused by the earthquake. The ground around the garage, save where cars might park, gained some tranquil foliage and decor, leading up to the people service areas. New tires stacked themselves like rubber Grecian columns guarding the garage doors, which now had enough overhang on the roof to protect those stacks. The driveway leveled out and widened for parking. The exterior seemed to de-age, and fresh color rolled across its surface and trim, without any evidence of anyone actually doing the work. This was because, Xander, Willow and Dawn had finally, at last, expended their combined Builder’s magic, reclaiming and regenerating the space in total. 

Inside, they had needed the building to operate under several parameters, so now it did. They had created a level one ultimate “fixit” joint. If they’d had more substance, money and energy to expend they would have gone for level two. But the space was upgradable and that was an option for later. There was, of course, nothing quite like it in the world, that they knew about. 

At the front, there was a service and wait area. Behind the counter were several doors. One single door labeled ‘staff’ led to some offices and the staff room. One set of double-doors led to a well stocked three car garage, which was ready operate. One set, with a unique symbol that looked very much like twisting snakes around a rod, led to offices, examination rooms and sundry other useful-to-a-healer rooms; also stocked. The final set of doors led to a park-like kennel and sleep space that was multi-being friendly. The sleep spaces and kennels had several “faces”, including small caves, holes in trees, holes in the table by the benches near the park, and some actual rooms. Children of a certain age could play in the park without fear, but obviously with adult guidance, and so could puppies and kittens and other sundry cute and fuzzy creatures. Those creatures could make a mess and it would disappear harmlessly, without having to call in someone or carry plastic bags. It was all soundproofed, fireproofed, basically indestructible and yes, it was shiny; since the newly minted garage had not yet been utilized. All of these unique zones had small pocket extensions and dimensions, allowing for deeper than usual closets and roomier bathrooms. A shared staff room and delivery point connected all the spaces together. And, of course, there were small apartments tucked away for the units or people who would inevitably appear, ready to work. 

The whole effort, not counting the cleanup, had taken a little over an hour and a half, with the three Builders working at triple speed, bringing them close to the noon of the day. They had actually managed to complete the work within Uncle Rory’s timeframe. Their effort, however, was not without consequence.

Willow’s prediction of pain was not given out of ignorance. She knew Xander. She knew herself and she knew Dawn and all of them, once they had a notion in their head, tended to put in a hundred percent and more effort. Because they hadn’t waited until they were back to full power, their efforts had tapped them out again. They were definitely tired, more than moderately sore, and in desperate need of a “refill.”

If they’d been home, or at least at Dawn’s or Willow’s place, they would have made a pizza order to end all pizza orders and then napped. As it happened, the staff lounge refrigerator had been been full. They’d pretty much cleaned it out when they’d realized they had the option. Sandwiches had been made, frozen food had been zapped, and chip packs had been opened. Milk, juice and soda had been poured. Then all the cartons and waste paper had been deconstructed, giving the teeniest boost to their energy and substance level ever. The food, however, had made a tiny dent in their lack; enough that they could move like normal people again; mostly. 

Then they remembered the console on the front of the fridge. Willow, being who she was, went over, leaned against the fridge with one hand to hold herself up and read. “Choose groceries? Oh. Cool.” Usually she would have said that with much more physical enthusiasm, but she was right out of enthuse or even oomph. 

Dawn offered, without actually getting up to look, “It’s probably smart enough to eventually stock stuff that is used regularly, but we pretty well had everything; so empty now. Does it have a basics list?”

Willow began pressing various options on the panel. “Yep. Got it. Basics. Check all, because I’m too tired to figure it out. And order all for some frozen pizzas for next time.” She turned to glare a bit at Xander. “Not that I expect there to be a next time…” 

“Hey what did I do?” Xander protested weakly and received a soft pat on the shoulder from Dawn. 

“She’ll calm down.”

“I’m very calm. I claim the couch in the name of Willowandia because I am so calm I will probably be asleep in five minutes.” 

“I was going to claim the couch,” complained Dawn.

“Only if you can get off that chair. I am already halfway there.”

“Yeah. You just watch me.” Dawn groaned into a better sitting position and started to struggle up.

“Ladies there are plenty of couches.” Which was true. The staff lounge had three couches, several recliners located in ‘quiet’ zones where excess sound would not be carried, a half full bookshelf, which had been slowly filling as they ate (though they really hadn’t noticed that), and a big screen tv located where it could be watched from the table and one of the couches. The Universal Remote for the TV was hooked to the wall by the TV. His thoughts roamed back to an important idea. “And someone needs to call Joyce to say we’re napping and will be home later.”

“The Xander shall not interfere with the race,” Willow intoned. Then she added in a more normal tone, “Does the Xander want the fridge to have twinkies?”

“Hel...” He glanced quickly at Dawn and changed what he was going to say, “Heck yeah. Please and thank you,” Xander replied, almost managing a full sit up to watch Willow closely. She smiled as she input the request, which caused him to smile back.

The service bell at the front rang, lilting an alert through the lounge. This caused some consternation among them, until Xander, who had finally managed to sit upright completely shook himself and said, “Oh. It’s probably Mich.”

“Right! Has to be.” Dawn said, as she sat down on the couch, which held the puppy box. She raised her hands in a small victory motion, then let them drop. “I won.” Then she looked down into the box. “Hello little guy.”

“No fair. Wasn’t done,” Willow griped, but she slowpoked her way to the other couch.

The bell rang again. Xander looked at very weary Willow, then at the obviously struggling to stay awake Dawn, whose hand now dangled in the box close enough for the puppy to nudge and play. He sighed, sounding a bit like a golem butler of some renown. “I’ll get it.”

-BTVS-

Before the bell rang, several things had been going on. First, the bulldozers had been running for that same hour and a half the Builders were working and the yard looked much, much better with clear pathways. Second, during the commotion, and just after the wave of change had touched the garage and its outlying areas, a pile of metal moved. Various bits and pieces dropped as a fender and then the rest of a bent and well used vehicle pushed out into one of those clear pathways. The car was fairly small and shaped a bit like a beetle. Third, and finally, about the same time as the car was making its escape from a pile of debris and rolling away on its rims, another vehicle, this time with a person driving it, was pulling into the fresh, new parking lot in front of the Harris FixIt All Center (HFAC for short). 

The driver stepped out of their rugged truck, staring in awe at the building. He held a piece of paper and a black bag. He wore a white shirt, no jacket or tie, and a pair of black slacks. His shoes had seen better days, but were technically polished to a less frumpy glossy black. 

He was distracted from his curious evaluation by a horrible metallic scraping sound, which caused him to turn toward it. He then watched as an aged volkswagen, sans tires, rolled past his truck, past the parking lot and toward one of the garage doors. He gaped a bit as the car stopped, with enough of a jerk to shake dust and spread metal around, then made another noise. A forlorn and weak horn sounded. Followed by a bit of a kickback through the back pipe, which spat out rust and crap.

He couldn’t help himself. He noted, out loud, “Wow, that is one sick car.”

“You ain’t lying,” was the rueful and very surprising comment that followed. 

The man was startled enough that he let go of the paper, though not his bag.

“Whoops. Sorry ‘bout that. Let me get that for you. I’m Mich.”

“Oh, um...Hi. I’m Jeremy Osborne, and am here for the interview? With a Mr. Harris. There was an advertisement.” 

Mich, by that time was extending the paper back. “I take it that’s what this? Didn’t know there’d been one. You planning on working the garage?”

“Oh no. I don’t know that I’ll deal too much with that side of things.”

Mich gave him a once over, “You don’t seem like the type to work the Yard.”

“I’m not here for that either. The advertisement mentioned a need for an individual experienced with a…” He lifted the paper and read, “... variety of lifeforms, sentient and/or simply unique. Doctoring skills good. Veterinarian skills a must.” He cleared his voice. “I am a healer, and l, I have three degrees that might commend me. That was a bit of an accident in schooling, all legitimate however, and I do have familiarity with the less mundane aspects of life. This is, after all, California and my family, you see...”

Mich held up his hand. “I’ll stop you right there. You don’t need to explain any further. You’re one of his other job’s things. And I guess it makes sense that it has to do with all this.” He waved his hand vaguely at the renovated garage. Mich then scratched his cheek idly, adding yet more dirt to his face, “Mr. Harris told the kids to work on that and they’ve been at it awhile. He told me they’d be done by noon or so, but I admit…” He paused and his glance skittered over the pristine front of the garage and the vacant road toward the inner yard, “... that I thought it would take them longer. I guess they might even be expecting you.”

Another clatter drew their attention back to the VW Bug. The fender had fallen off on one side. Mich said, “I know you say you aren’t a mechanic, but you may find that you’re dealing with all sorts of things you hadn’t expected when you work for Harris.” Mich’s nose twitched and then he sneezed, and for a brief moment his brow deepened and his cheeks sunk in as his color reddened as scales were revealed. The veterinarian politely failed to notice, even after Mich’s features returned to human-normal. The foreman continued, “My boss tapped his nephew, also a Harris, for this project. So Xander’s probably the one …” He stopped as the garage door rose up, to reveal mechanic in a fresh uniform. 

The mechanic nodded at the two men, and then turned his attention back to the vehicle. “Come on in, sir. I’ve been expecting you.” The ancient wreck rolled slowly and achingly into the garage, his pipe sputtering more rust out the hind end in one last cough. 

“...you’ll want to talk to,” finished Mich. “If they’re not in the new place, they’ll be Rory’s office. I got things to do, including sending the guys home, so I’ll leave you to it.”

-BTVS-

Xander looked pretty much like he felt. His hair was a mess from taking off the hard hat. His posture spoke of weariness. The only reason his face and hands were clean was that Willow had made them all wash before lunch. Yet he managed a smile. “Hello. I guess Uncle Rory was right about people knowing to come searching. And lucky for you, I haven’t gotten over to the main office to turn around the sign. Hi. My name is Xander. . What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Harris, Mich said you were the person to speak to, but are you okay?” The man before him queried urgently. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Want to? Oh yes. Need to? Probably. Am I okay? Sure. And Mr. Harris is my Dad. I’m just Xander. Just a bit tired. It’s been a very busy morning. No worries.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy responded doubtfully. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for the okay part.” He looked as if he might say more on the topic, but instead he said, “By the way, my name is Jeremy Osbourne. You may know my nephew, Daniel. He attends Sunnydale High.”

“I recognize the name,” Xander said. “I’ve seen him play at the Bronze. But I can’t say we have spoken much.”

“Well, I’m glad you at least know who I am talking about. By the way, where did you want to have it?”

“Have what?” Xander said blankly.

“The job interview,” prompted Jeremy. “For your healer position. Hopefully the lead physician, but I’m open to anything right now.” The man then thrust the paper at Xander, who took it and read it with some confusion. 

“I know this definitely isn’t the most professional way to introduce myself. I originally intended to open my own practice, with some connection to Sunnydale General, but when I saw that advertisement. I felt compelled, like I just had to try. The position jibes with what I would love to do anyhow and I must say, given the description of purpose, I completely approve of what you are attempting to do here. I have resumes, references, my curriculum vitae and well, anything you might need to verify that I am a legal and current practitioner of the healing arts, have management experience and can run an urgent care facility like this one. And, I am a certified and legal Veterinarian. I can explain how that happened in the interview if you care to hear it.”

After a few moments, Xander dropped the paper on the counter, and stared into space as if puzzling out the universe. Then he shook himself. “I admit, you are not at all what I expected for an… applicant.” After all, he expected a unit, not a real person and he had no idea how Jeremy had managed to get an advertisement before the building was even complete. “But, tell you what, you show Willow that stuff you mentioned and help us solve a problem and you’ve probably got yourself a job. If you will come with me?” Xander walked to another portion of the counter. He pressed a button and the counter slid away to reveal an entrance to the other side. Jeremy didn’t dawdle and made it through before the counter slid back into place. 

Xander led him through the staff door and they passed several offices, none of which appeared to be occupied yet. As they walked, Jeremy felt he had to say something. He normally wasn’t this verbose, but the need to snag the job felt rather urgent, even if he couldn’t quite believe he was trying to sell his abilities to a teenager. “It wasn’t until I saw the advertisement this morning that I realized that your Uncle had been listening at the last town-hall meeting months ago and I just had to rush over and get my foot in the door. I probably should have called, but I can’t tell you what this place will mean to the local non-human community. The truth is, I wanted to be first. I’m not usually this impetuous, but my friends and I have been waiting such a long time for something like this to happen and it’s nice to know we were remembered. Usually certain kinds of people who have some rather unique issues have to compete for services in really shady places or the expertise simply isn’t there or it’s some family secret or they have wait until the local gang bosses and their minions settle their territories and then it’s fighting and mayhem and wreckage and by then most decide to just tough it out.”

Xander was quite impressed with the near Willow babble. And even though the situation was obviously quite unusual, Jeremy’s verbosity reassured the young man more than anything else the doctor might have attempted. “I can understand that. I think I should mention that this building is structurally developed to withstand earthquakes and various other catastrophes, including general mayhem. The care facilities are distinct from each other and meet the local codes. By the time this place officially opens there will be administrative staff to handle details, legal, management or otherwise. Your job, should you accept it, will be dealing with those who come in looking for help. But we won’t expect you to overbook yourself. This place will be staffed in such a way that those seeking care, for themselves or a loved one can get it in a reasonable time and at reasonable rates. And if you decide you want to play country doctor and do house calls, we’ll support you so long as the facility receives your best effort. Where did you say you were from?”

Jeremy replied, “Most of my family is from Beacon Hills, but the politics was getting to be a bit much. My wife and I wanted a quiet place to raise our son and it turned out my brother found this great deal on land out here. We found a nice location not too far out of town, a place with plenty of stretch room.” He then tested the waters to see how in-the-know Xander was. “We had no idea about the bat problem until we got here.” 

Xander’s laugh echoed down the hallway. “Man, I am going to have to remember to use that one on Angel. I guess I should mention that while we’ll probably give whomever ends up working here a pretty free hand, we do have some standards. We don’t mind certain kinds of bats, because, hey good for the environment and they’re cute. But the kind of bats that eat people are not going to usually be welcome here. In fact, things would become mighty dusty if they tried. This is a human friendly service center.”

“Absolutely. If I may recommend, whether you hire me or not, I have a friend in LA whose bar is completely warded against violence and caters to a varied clientele. I can put you in touch or, again, if you hire me, I can get a hold of him and find out more.”

“That would be great, actually. We’re still getting used to the idea that maybe not all non-humans bad. But that’s only because my friends and I have been fighting the tide of big bads for awhile and we’ve learned that some folks simply do not play nice. Suffice to say, if they think humans or near-humans or even just peaceful types are toys or food, maybe they don’t need service here.”

Jeremy’s shoulders seemed to settle, as he relaxed around the younger man. “I’m not arguing. I happen to agree. My pa… I mean my family and I are definitely on the side of humans good. Well, in general. There are always bad eggs.”

“Tell me about it,” grumbled Xander.

Jeremy decided to come back to the topic. “Whatever the case, and however this turns out, Mich says you and your friends have been working very hard for your Uncle. Mr. Harris sure kept this on the down-low, which is understandable given certain situations, but boy did you guys come through. From what I can see it’s a beautiful building.”

“We’ll be sure and give you the proper tour after.” Xander didn’t mention that even he hadn’t seen the whole place, and now he really wanted to. “This is just the staff area and no one has come to settle in yet.”

“Well, I just really appreciate the opportunity to apply for the position.” 

They arrived and Xander held the door open to the staff room. As Jeremy passed him, Xander said, “Dawn. Willow. We have someone here to help with our little problem.” He then introduced Jeremy. 

Dawn, groaned and didn’t do much more than wave a hand in their general direction. She didn’t even open her eyes. Willow, meanwhile, managed to sit back up. “Oh hey. You look familiar.”

“You may know my nephew. Daniel. He goes to your school.” 

“He’s talking about Oz from the Dingos band. You know. The guy you thought was cute.”

“Xaaander,” Willow blushed. 

The young man grinned. “Anyhow, this is Dr. Osborne and he’s applying to work here as a healer. I told him to give you his details, so you can look him up and stuff. But I think this is a great chance to see how he might fit in with us. Dawn, can you wake up enough to give us the box?”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Willow. I will keep your appreciation of my nephew in confidence.”

“It’s just Willow, Dr. Osborne and thank you.” The young lady stood up and that was when 

Jeremy realized that none of these three were running at full tilt at the moment. “Xander mentioned you all had worked very hard today. I suppose this all could really wait. I didn’t realize … Do you need me to check anything while I’m here?” He asked with great concern.

Usually the people he saw run this low on steam had just transitioned for the first or second time. He resisted the urge to try and diagnose without knowing more, but he had been deliberately avoiding using his senses and was now coming to the conclusion that they might have a story to tell him. 

“What? No. We’re fine. Just...not perky. A good nap and dinner will fix things right up” Willow said as she got up. Jeremy stopped at the table, opened his bag and pulled out a file folder, which he handed to Willow. 

“Dawn,” Xander prompted again and he walked toward the brunette. The young woman, whose hand was still in the box and who, technically was sitting up, opened her eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Here you go.” She lifted the box toward Xander, who took it very gently. 

“Thanks, Dawnie. You can knock out again, if you want.”

“Great. Wake me when we get to go home.”

“Will do.” Xander then carried the box to the table, where he set it down carefully.   
“So, you ready for our test?”

Jeremy smiled, pretty sure he could handle anything these kids could throw at him.

Xander nodded. “Okay.” He waved his hand in introduction. “Unexpected Puppy, Meet Dr. J. Unexpected applicant, meet our puppy in a box, who was found just this morning.” 

Smiling, the doctor stepped forward and grasped the upper edge of the box with his hands. Then he looked in. His eyes widened and his brows went up. “You have a hellhound!” He exclaimed.

Xander rocked back on his heels, putting his fists on his hips. “Yup. Found in a sack about, what, two hours ago. You may have felt the quake that introduced him to us.”

“Oh boy.”

“Indeedy. That was our thought too. So we said to ourselves, ‘Selves, we better make sure this puppy is okay.’ Which brings us to you. Would you mind examining the puppy for us and then maybe, since you seem to know what it is without us having to tell you, offer some ideas for how to get the puppy back where it belongs?”

The doctor looked back up to find that all three of the young people were gazing rather intently at him. He cleared his throat. So much for easy.


	4. Chapter 4

BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog Pt 4 

“What you have here,” Jeremy said with genuine satisfaction, “is a perfectly healthy puppy.” He held the puppy up and looked into all four of his eyes and said, “Yes you are, aren’t you. Such a sweet baby.” The compliment was rewarded with sweet puppy grins, which led to some cuddles after which, the doctor set him back into the box. That resulted in a doubled-whine, which was settled with a few rufflings of the ears and the pup’s apparent willingness to play with wiggly fingers. 

“That is really great to know, Dr. Oz,” Willow said, relieved. She finished examining his paperwork some time ago. The folder lay closed in front of her. She had already determined that they appeared to be the real deal and had gone to make a few phone calls before coming back with a head-nod for Xander.

The doctor, who had taken a seat at the table smiled in return. The nickname had been established rather quickly and he found he liked he use of the name from these young people. It made him feel oddly in touch. “Yes, it actually is. Because I can tell you a few more things about this puppy.”

“Yeah?” Xander asked. “What things?”

“Well, the first thing I can tell you is we can give him good puppy kibble and nutrient puppy milk formula for supplement for a few weeks and he’ll be fine, nutritionally speaking. It’s a little early for total weaning from his dam, but it’s necessary now. He probably does need to be let out of the box soon so he can stretch his legs properly, but by his comfort level, I can guess he’s probably used to a kennel and being handled.” 

“We did plan for a puppy’s need to be free, yet learn to piddle in the right places. Remind us to show you that,” Willow said, offering Xander a meaningful look. So far everything the doctor said had confirmed what their Look had revealed, earlier in the day. 

Jeremy flashed a smile in her direction. “Absolutely.”

“So, what’s the second thing?” Xander asked.

Jeremy paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then made a decision to be forthright. “You’re not going to find the original owner. Or rather, it’s about 99.9 percent unlikely that you and the original owner, let alone whoever did this, will make contact.” He raised a hand to forestall questions. “I’d love to be able to answer the questions you have, but the truth is, that this little guy was in a sack, behind a dumpster. He wasn’t meant to be found. He wasn’t meant to survive. It was sheer luck that you found him when you did.”

“Isn’t there someone we could call? A hotline or something?” Xander asked, appalled, even as the doctors quiet words scaled down the original alarm that had set everything in motion. 

“Xander, normally I’d recommend something like that, but how many two-headed anythings have you seen lately?”

“Ooh. Right. Unusual creature, not an everyday thing. Not likely to have a hotline.”

Jeremy shrugged, “Perhaps they are more common than one would think, but Hell Hounds don’t get lost by themselves. So, no. There is no hotline. Word of mouth maybe, but even then, only if… well… that’s not something you really need to worry about. It’s just very rare to find them away from their homes. Likely, this little guy was stolen. Most times, it would be for money, even for a runt like this one, but…and this is a big one, but indications are, that this was a puppy-nap with intent to harm. Whoever did this, did it to hurt. And they put the puppy somewhere he couldn’t be tracked.”

“The Hellmouth,” Xander said flatly, realizing that the Doctor must be in the know to make such an observation. It made him wonder just how many Sunnydale citizens actually did know about it and simply chose to live with the knowledge.

Jeremy touched his own nose with his index fingertip and then pointed at Xander, who sighed.

“So this means?”

“Well, unless you plan on completing the job or are going to take this guy to the pound,” Jeremy paused to let the irony settle in. 

Dawn, who up to that point had seemed to be asleep, sat up abruptly, pointed directly and emphatically at the doctor and nearly shouted, “Never!”

Jeremy smiled despite himself and shook his head a little. “Then you have a puppy.”

\-----BTVS-----

Once they accommodated themselves to the facts, none of the young people could honestly claim to be disappointed. A puppy was a puppy, even with two heads, and that meant he was adorable. Dawn called dibs on first home visit. 

Willow called dibs on the names. 

“Names?” Xander queried.

“Well, they may cooperate, but the puppy does have two heads.”

“And you’ve already named him in your head, haven’t you.”

Willow couldn’t help herself. Even as stripped down energetically as she was, she bounced in her chair and clapped excitedly. Then she nodded cheerfully. “Yep.”

“I claim the right to veto,” Dawn said, quite seriously. 

Willow flashed a grin. Then she asked for the puppy, which Jeremy duly handed to her. She softly patted the puppy, eventually drawing her hand to the right side. “I dub thee Bubba.”

Dawn pursed her lips and then nodded. “I like it. It’s traditional and it means brother.”

Willow smiled at that and then pet the left head. “Bo.”

“Handsome, which they both qualify for. Okay, I approve. Bubba-Bo it is.”

“Shouldn’t that be Bo-Bubba? The scansion’s better.” Xander said.

“It reads left to right, so yes, Bo-Bubba,” Willow said.

“That says so much about you, Willow.” Dawn said.

“I know, right?” The redhead sighed. “We should go to the kennel.”

“In a moment,” Xander said. “We have to finish the interview.”

“Oh, right. So…”

Just then, a buzzer sounded, from the direction of the refrigerator. There was a long, breathless pause before Willow abruptly handed Bo-Bubba to Jeremy and Xander and Dawn ejected themselves from their seats and ran toward the icebox. They were rapidly followed by Willow. Moments later the double doors were open, revealing a goodly selection of foods on deep shelves, all of which was emptied out with amazing rapidity. 

As the teens turned back toward the table, wild-eyed and arms full, Jeremy lifted the puppy to his chest protectively, while dropping his folder into the empty box which he then dropped to the floor, kicking it under the table. He wanted there to be no misunderstandings or regrets. He then carefully sat back, as the table was somehow swarmed by the youths and the food strewn about in a random feast. 

He watched, in shock, with a puppy wriggling and yipping in his hands excitedly, as food and drink was consumed with frightening rapidity. When someone reached for the box of Twinkies, Xander slapped hands and said, “Mine!” But other than that, it seemed all choices were good. 

A few minutes later, probably not even five, by his count, the table was possibly cleaner than when they started. Everything had been consumed, food and wrappers. And the youths were sighing in literal relief, leaning back and patting bellies. He could see and smell little flicks of energy around them and perhaps not-so-oddly, they looked genuinely less tired than when he met them.

It seemed that food, plus natural youthful resilience, equaled energy.

Dawn, who was much more alert said, “Well now we know: the ‘fridge auto-loads.”

“And that is very handy,” Willow nodded sagely, as she patted her hair back a little. She covered her mouth briefly as a small burp erupted. “Though, really, I think we need to consider the idea that we’re going to have to take advantage of Uncle Rory’s broad permissions and just clear a few more things out of the yard. Food is nice, and a lot of it is wonderful, but…”

“I don’t think he’d mind, but you set the ‘fridge to auto renew its list, right?”

“Uhm. Yeah. I did.”

“In that case, we’ll be sure and check in about a half hour and we can make a decision then.”

“Fair enough. But, Xander, I’m telling you. I’ll be Little Miss Hollow-legs until we do something more substantial. I know we’ve talked about it before, but we need to think of where and how we’re going to resupply. You know, without it being too, well, noticeable.”

Xander nodded, “I know, Wills. It’s very much on my mind. I do have some ideas, but I’m letting them simmer a bit before sharing.”

Still carefully and protectively clutching the wriggling puppy, Jeremy finally had to speak. “What just happened? I haven’t seen a food massacre like that since my cousin Beenie experienced her…” He paused rather abruptly and then said, “Well, anyhow, since my cousin Beenie.”

It was apparent that they had forgotten he was even there by the way their eyes widened. Xander put a hand to the back of his head and scratched before saying, “Um. Yeah, I don’t suppose you could forget you saw that. Or that I could convince you it was normal, teenage appetites?”

“No.” Jeremy responded firmly. “You’re going to have to tell me. I expect that, as your on call physician, I will need to know these things.”

The trio of young people paused and then he watched as eyebrows lifted and lips quirked and body language conveyed whole ideas along with shrugs of bafflement before Xander replied again. “Okay, see, remember last weekend. Halloween?”

“I seem to recall. The news mentioned a gas leak.”

“It wasn’t. A gas leak, I mean. It was magic. A lot of people turned into their costumes.”

“I see,” he said slowly, but not disbelievingly. “That explains some things.”

“To keep it short, because, I think the more pressing matter is in your hands. We became….” Xander tried to figure out how to word it and paused, waving his hands about to try and help himself formulate the words.

Willow finally helped with, “... uniquely empowered. But we’re relatively new at this and what we do uses energy and what uses energy, has to take it from someplace. So now we’re just super hungry because we recently used a lot of energy.”

“Hmm. I believe I can work with that.” Jeremy took a moment to observe them. “You do seem less peaked. Though, based on what you just told me, I am going to recommend that you get rest as soon as we conclude our business here. In fact, I’m going to insist on it; including any appropriate supplemental meals that you may need. I’d like an opportunity to examine you when you’re feeling less tired to establish a baseline. But I do understand you are not yet officially under my care and so cannot do more than suggest.”

For some reason, that decided things. Xander turned to Jeremy. “Dr. Oz. You’re hired. We’ll figure out paperwo…”

He didn’t even finish the statement before a woman bearing a striking resemblance to a young Nancy Culp stalked purposefully into the staff room. “I’m Tess Hathaway, and I’m the Administrative Assistant in Charge. Your paperwork is ready, Dr. Osborne. If you’ll come with me please?”

“Right,” Xander said. “That answers that. Welcome to the team, doctor. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

\-----BTVS----

A half an hour later, after one more meal and a bit of playtime with Bo-Bubba, Dr. Oz volunteered to watch the puppy in the HFAC play kennel. It would give him a chance to explore, make notes of what was located where and what might be needed. Meanwhile, Xander, Willow and Dawn decided they still had time before they absolutely had to get Dawn home to casa Summers.

They managed to avoid Mich by the simple expedient of going in the opposite direction of where he was currently working. They noticed that while a lot of the debris had been shoved to the side to make some basic pathways, very little had really been organized again. The guys were apparently saving that for a day that wasn’t a weekend, which wasn’t unreasonable. It did not lessen what they had accomplished, given the circumstances.

But that lack of care was convenient for three component and energy starved juvenile Builders. They were still young people, though they retained the rank and rights of Journeymen. They had much strength and substance to reconstitute for themselves and they knew that they still had a lot to learn.

But needs must. 

“So, I was thinking,” Willow said. “Do you think two security guards in the Fixit station will be enough? I mean, I’m a lot less worried because of what Dr. Oz said, but I think they’re still a good idea. In case.”

Xander stretched, cracking his back, while they slowly walked. “They’re going to have to be. If Uncle Rory wants more, he’s going to have to hire them himself. They are already two more than he had to start anyhow.” He grimaced slightly when a particularly deep crack twitched everything back into place, “I don’t know about you, but the only oomph I have is enough to do some clearing and fill the stores a bit. I really think we need to take the rest of the day off before we do anything else. Including, and I’ve just shocked myself for even thinking this, some research; because, I think we need to consider the idea of a real base; not just our nominal homes. We need something that is ours and a place where we have access to physical stores, because this pulling from our reserves thing is catching up to me too fast.” He exhaled and his whole body seemed to relax, easing his walk. “But back to our topic. I tucked a temporary mini minion-machine into the HFAC. Once the minions are finished being created, someone will be there all the time, even if all the units, I mean, people, left for lunch or caught a cold or something. This will hopefully dissuade anyone from doing anything too drastic.”

“A minion-machine? When did you have time to do that? And where?”

“I put it by the mechanic spawn zone, near the basic tools. I figured they might need someone to hold oil-filters or something. And yes, it’s programmable, but only by us, and yes, I input the template for our particular kind of minions and only we can call those up. So, gnomes for the mechanics…”

“Gnomes! Xander!” Willow said in alarm and she clutched his forearm. “What kind of gnomes?”

“Relax, Willow! It’s all in hand. The minion machine will only spawn ten gnomes max, ever, and then they’re specifically coded to do certain tasks and to avoid the general pitfalls of the usual tinkering …” He didn’t have a chance to finish what he was saying.

“Mister, we are talking gnomes!” Willow squealed in alarm. “They’re practically Builders. And you’re giving them access to a junkyard! Do you realize what you will have unleashed? We have to go back!” 

She began to turn around, but Xander pulled her back, and walked her forward, holding her close with his arm around her shoulder. “It’s not like things won’t get unleashed when we get our Minions back, Willow. As you well know.”

Dawn said firmly, “I miss Bob. I’m good with this if I can get Bob back.”

Xander patted her back, “Well, he may not be the same Bob as before, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Then he said to Willow, “Even if the gnomes take over the yard, it will be a good thing; especially for Uncle Rory. He needs the help. Heck, Mich needs the help. Gnomes are great organizers, innovative and they can fix almost anything. Besides, they’ll start off programmed to do what Rory and we say and they can just live in the yard and be happier than pigs in mud; which will make them loyal and true.”

Willow wagged her finger at him. “You know good and well minion-gnomes often become self-evolved in less than a week. Specifically, the kind of gnomes we’re talking about tend to be incredibly intelligent. Okay, garden gnomes are kind of dim, or maybe their priorities for alcoholic libations just make them seem that way, but tinker gnomes can be just as clever as banker gnomes.” She paused and said, with some relief, “At least you didn’t set it for any of those…”

Xander winced a little. “Someone has to administrate the HFAC, Willow. So, I thought we needed one or two of those too. I kind of made a plan for an accountant, with … certain permissions to create a storage facility if needed. Which, if the HFAC is to operate correctly, they will. Because, we... ” 

Willow made a wordless sound of alarm. 

So Xander spoke quickly, riding over anything she might say. “Look, it’s not just Rory who will benefit. Do you know anyone who can, and I use these words deliberately, easily and fairly, exchange lots of gold for dollars. Specifically, our gold coins, which might not be reasonably explained to someone not in the know? Not to mention we are currently un-emancipated teens trying to represent ourselves. And at least for one of us, that is not going to change very soon.” He glanced meaningfully at Dawn.

Willow shook her head. “Give me a few hours with a computer and maybe I could answer that, because I’m pretty sure we could work something out. But…” She tried a different argument. “They’ll build underground, Xander.”

“Yes. I know. Because clearing out underground spaces is something gnomes are very good at.” He arched his brow meaningfully. 

Willow’s mouth closed and she suddenly looked thoughtful. “The Master is underground.”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Which means there is probably already some underground living going on by other kinds of beings and he’s in the way. It can only improve life for those who aren’t vamps, and if we go by what Dr. Oz said, maybe this is keeping some sort of, I dunno, promise or something.”

Willow’s expression became less troubled. “They’ll be competition. Building all over the place.”

“No, they’ll be complimentary. Gnomes are not Builders. They are their own race, and their magic prevents them from becoming what we are. It may sound speciesist, but they can’t do the things we do and never will. We will always outrank them, because of who and what we are. However, they are good at what they do, which is invent and cobble and work things out; all very wonderful skills of their own. Plus, because they’re assigned to the HFAC as HFAC minions, they’ll work with us on call, which can only be of the good and will at least give us a small boost in our available manpower when we need it.”

“Xander,” Willow tried her most reasonable voice. “They are gnomes and if they get a hold of the minion machine, no matter how well you’ve secured it, they will take it apart to ‘improve it.’ Once they do that, they will figure a way around the codes. And then pffft. Craziness.” Willow’s hands flung out dramatically.

“Like there isn’t craziness now? May I remind you what we just did today and on Halloween?” He paused to let that sink in, then said, persuasively, “So there will be more gnomes and possibly minions,” Xander admitted, but then he said, “but that can only be of the good for Sunnydale. We can’t take back the night on our lonesome and, again, gnomes are inventive. Plus, you know they hate vamps and the other grue that are prone to eat them or look down on them for being… less tall. Even more, they like fighting vamps and the other grue. It’s an honorable occupation to them, which makes them our natural ally. Plus, they have an ancient warrior tradition.” He smiled serenely, “We couldn’t stop them if we tried. Besides, I never bought into the whole one girl in all the world line. One girl against how many hundreds, possibly thousands of monsters, all flocking to where she is, just because of who she is?” He shook his head in disgust. “Somewhere the equation has to be wrong. No matter how strong Buffy is she’s only one person and can still be outnumbered, _has_ been out numbered. In fact, now I’m thinking, we should make a minion for her specifically, because she is one girl and we can’t and probably won’t always be there for her. Think on that and tell me three or five or even a hundred gnomes are too many. At least they are on the side of humanity, if not the “light.” Most of the time, anyway.”

Willow stopped walking, causing the other two to do the same, as they waited for her thoughts to catch up. 

“Okay,” she finally said. “Okay. When you put it that way… we need all the help we can get.”

“Exactly. And we’re just lucky we have tricks that allow us to do it. Besides, the machine will automatically self destruct if the gnomes or anyone else tampers with it and when we’ve reached its capacity. I didn’t plan on leaving it long term. If there are going to be more than ten gnomes, they’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. And then they’ll be locals, like us.” He nodded firmly and she relaxed despite her caution.

“So, who gets the minions first? Uncle Rory or us?” She asked, finally giving in.

“Well, had to have a couple ready to roll, so two gnomes are already active, but I’ve got two minions for each of us rolling out next and they should find us by tomorrow morning. Then it’ll finish up with the gnomes and disintegrate. By Monday, the shop should be operating as if it and the minions have always been there, and by Tuesday,... ”

“When Uncle Rory comes back…”

“We will be safely at school so he can’t yell at us right away and the HFAC should be well in hand.”

“I like this plan,” Dawn piped in sunnily. “It’s sort of set it and forget it, but it’ll help almost everyone except for the bad guys long term. I can get behind something like that very easily.” 

Of course, she was also happy because she was getting Bo-Bubba. And not for the obvious reasons, like Willow’s parents having allergies and Xander’s parents’ no pet policy. She also had a plan; a conniving, sneaky and ultimately good for her family kind of plan. At least, she hoped it was. After all, if she could get her mom to admit that two headed dogs existed, maybe they could have the discussion that Buffy had been avoiding since that debacle at Hemery.

Yeah, it was totally smart to set a gym on fire where people could see you do it. 

Fortunately, Mom was savvy and Dad loved his daughters. It meant that Buffy was only in the asylum for like half a day, if that long, going through a scared-straight visit to the institution so she could grasp what the consequences could have been. In the end, Buffy had gone through the court mandated weekly counseling sessions like almost every other first-time juvie arsonist. She visited the asylum for the counseling sessions, she did not live there. Though, when she commented about the experience Buffy made it sound like she’d been chained to a bed and incarcerated against her will for weeks and weeks. Yeah, her sister didn’t scale misfortune real well. Not that anyone really did.

Or maybe not so fortunately, because denial was a lifestyle in Sunnydale and her mom appeared to embrace that wholeheartedly. It kind of made her miss the times when there was less denial. But… two-headed dog. If Mom could accept an adorable little Hell-Hound, then maybe… Well. Maybe Mom would be open to the idea that she had two special daughters and neither of them were crazy.

Sure. 

“Buck up, Dawn, things will work out,” Xander said, when he noticed her expression. After glancing around he smiled. They had managed to find a cul-de-sac of mountainous crushed cars and metal, which had obviously slid from their original stack. “I think we’ve found the sweet spot. Rory’s guys haven’t been here yet and we can make a difference.” He waved his hand at the heaping pile that blocked their way. 

Dawn grinned back, and lifted her hands as if in supplication. “Let’s do this.”

\------BTVS-----

It was far later than it should have been, considering they had planned to be home shortly after noon, but at two, they were fit for public viewing again, and able to walk meaningful distances faster than aged tortoises. 

Absorbing the extra materials had made a goodly, but this time much more subtle dent into Rory’s yard, extending the forward path. Though not too far. The HFAC could be excused as fulfilling the job and the necessities of a perceived emergency. The Sunnydale effect would guide people’s eyes away from how quickly it had developed. They had all agreed that overly deconstructing and taking over Rory’s yard would have been too noticeable; even though it was likely that changes would take place once the gnomes really started digging in. They could not, however, reasonably establish a claim since the Yard was not theirs. 

Though Xander did secretly try, in case. The effort had felt a bit like trying to throw string at a post on a windy day; doomed to fail. He considered, however, that it was for the best.

The trio exited the fixit station and locked up Rory’s office by two-thirty; feeling better, even though they looked much more scruffy than when they’d arrived. Carrying some supplies and a puppy in a pet-case, they made their way back to the bus stop. They hoped the driver would let them on so they wouldn’t have to walk all the way home.

\-----BTVS-----

The bus driver looked at the case, squinted his eyes a bit, and then peered at Dawn, who stood on the bottom step of the bus entry stairwell. He pursed his lips and said, “I can allow it, but rules say you’re going to have to ride in the back.” He jerked his head in that direction. “Seats 40 through 65. I suggest trying for seat 40 to 48, so you’re closer to the front and the exit.” Then, as if he were trying to be reassuring he added, “No one will bother you while you’re on the bus.”

“Okay, sure,” Dawn said, easily agreeing, thinking it had to do with a pet policy. She displayed her bus pass and then, followed by Xander and Willow made her way down the vehicle's corridor.

They passed seats 34 through 38 and then, it was as if a veil suddenly parted as soon as Dawn stepped near seats 40 through 44. She stalled, feeling the rather abrupt press of Xander and Willow behind her, which actually pushed her forward a little. As she moved forward, she felt an odd sense of peace flow over her, as if what she was looking at was the most ordinary thing in the world.

A couple of seats were clearly available, fortuitously close to where the bus driver suggested they sit, but some seats were occupied by beings that would not qualify as precisely human. In one seat, reading a newspaper, was a thin “man,” in a white scientist’s labcoat. The thing most strikingly different was that his oversized head was shaped somewhat like that of an insect, with extra-large eyes that seemed otherwise normal, and antennae moving like animal ears, on his head. 

In another seat, leaning back, wearing board shorts with his legs comfortably crossed and his arms stretched across the empty seats beside him, sat a green being with a face that looked like a mix of ape and fish. Somehow, despite the fact his feet were slightly webbed and he looked as if he could use them for hands, he managed to wear wide flipflop sandals. He grinned toothily at them, as he nodded, “How’s it hanging?” 

“Pretty well,” Xander ventured. He gently pushed Dawn a little further in, when the bus started moving. “Mind if we take a seat?”

“Link, you’re managing to occupy three seats at once, do allow for others,” The newspaper reader hadn’t looked up yet, but then, with those big golden eyes and antennae, he might not need to. 

“Oh sure, sure, Doc. My bad.” The creature amiably brought his arms in and then scooted over, leaving two seats open. Xander took the seat beside him, placing Dawn so she was closest to the exit. 

Willow still hadn’t moved. Her voice quavered, though she’d gone nearly still as a statue. “Mr. Link, sir, I’m about to be rude and I know it, but this is important.” 

“Shoot. I’m rude all the time. Ask my friends. What do you want to know?” He waved a hand lazily. 

“Are you related at all in any way to Frogs.” She asked this question, because no matter how normal everything seemed, there were some things that were more powerful than the magic in the bus; such as a genuine phobia of certain kinds of amphibian. And, because she was on the precipice of deeply ingrained fright-panic and everything was still new, she’d forgotten all about a certain nifty feature in her inner HUD.

Xander mumbled. “Uh Oh.” Then he sat up straighter. “Willow, hon...”

This time it was Willow’s turn to wave someone off. “Important! Important!” she said shrilly.

“Xan…,” Dawn said slowly, also sitting up from a partial slouch, even though she was also still carrying the kennel.

Oddly, it was the scientist who replied, “Young lady, as Link’s companion, I can assure you that while he bares a small resemblance to your average anura, he is in fact, more commonly related to sharks and manta rays, with only the tiniest trace of amphibian heritage. What you are not seeing at the moment is his tail.” The doctor spoke kindly. “Show her your tail, Link.” 

The creature shrugged and then a moment later, his tail rose from where it was hidden and the fin spread in a wave. 

Willow’s sigh of relief was deeply audible, leading to a squeaked out, “Thank you!” Then she finally moved, taking the open space beside the creature identified as Doc by Link, which was across from Xander and Dawn.

The insectoid being smiled. “You’re quite welcome.” He folded his newspaper, and tucked it into a pocket. He extended a hand, “I am Herbert Cockroach, Ph.D.. Are you a local?”

“Willow Rosenberg. You aren’t?” The redhead, who was so afraid of frogs seemed to have absolutely no problem taking his hand and shaking it; even after he had stated his name. This reaction was partly out of relief, partly because despite his unusual aspect, the doctor was a gentleman and she responded well to this aspect, and, of course, partly because of the magic which subtly encouraged positive social interactions while in the back of the bus.

Xander’s sigh of relief was less evident than Willow’s had been, but both he and Dawn settled back, slightly wide eyed, yet appearing much more comfortable. The younger of the trio seemed to glance around curiously, before relaxing even more with a slightly smug expression on her face. She had just acquired a new, very useful blueprint. 

“Naw, we aren’t,” said Link before Dr. Cockroach could reply. “I’m here to see Sunnydale’s famous Sunnyside Beach and the professor’s here because he has a day-conference put on by the University to attend tomorrow at the Royale. A bunch of ma… I mean, scientist types are getting together to plo… talk about science-y kinds of things. He’s supposed to keep an eye on things. I’m just here for in-case muscle. You ask me, I got the better deal, because he’s not going to need me. It’s all talk and a bunch of blowhards and no one can beat the Doc when it comes to knowing things.” 

“Why thank you,” the scientist said, obviously pleased. He licked his hand and brushed his left antenna like a cat might brush their ear, before neatening his collar.

“Just the truth, professor. You’re gonna go in and own the place. Meanwhile, I’m gonna get my swim on, do some surfing, catch the sights, if you know what I mean. I tried to get the Doc to come with, but he’s shy.”

“Hardly shy, Link,” the Dr. protested mildly. “Simply busy tomorrow. Now, if we were staying longer, perhaps I’d take you up on the invitation. Word of mouth is that the beach is quite lovely.”

“Yeah, the beaches are great around here, but Sunnyside is definitely beyond awesome. Though it gets crowded when they run the annual surf competition in the summer. I tend to watch it on the Ocho and avoid the crowd,” Xander said with surprising equanimity. “You might try the Jupiter Shack while you’re there. The burgers are better than the Doublemeat and you don’t have to leave the beach just to get dinner.”

“Nice. What’s the best place to rent a board?” Link asked.

“Boingers Surf and Sport. You’ll see it when you get there. The building is bright orange. You can’t miss it. They got everything you might need, plus some touristy gifts so it’s really one stop shopping. The prices are pretty reasonable.” 

Link grinned widely. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them briefly in enthusiasm. “Excellent.”

Xander hesitated, looked to his left and then his right, and realized that no one else was in back with them. So he decided that he should say something. “You two seem like nice guys, so I’m going to give you a bit of a heads up. Sunnydale is a great town, but it’s got a bit of a … bat … problem at night. They like to bite, think the taste of blood is great, they’re kind of surly and prone to stealing wallets and hanging out in dark corners so they can prey on the less observant. I’m sure you two can handle yourselves, but…” He shrugged, “I’d hate for you to be unnecessarily surprised. So some quick tips.” He raised a hand and began counting off on his fingertips, “Don’t bother calling the police, they’re not going to be around anyway. Run if you can, but if you can’t, decapitation, wooden stake through the heart, and fire.” 

“Ah, I see, the easily flammable variety of bat,” Dr. Cockroach said with some distaste. “Thank you for the alert. Though it was my understanding that Santa Carla was the place most haunted by that sort of vermin.”

“Gotta do my part for Sunnydale tourism and safety.”

“You’re my kind of guy….”

“Xander. Xander Harris. And no, Santa Carla has a measly three cemeteries. We have twelve. Not only do our beaches and cemeteries beat theirs, but the Razorbacks kick the Bulldogs any day.”

“Link. no last name. Good to see some spirit, kid.”

“I may be a slacker, but I’m a proud of my school.” Xander’s palm briefly met Link’s in a high-five. 

“I’m Dawn,” the youngest Summers said perkily. She patted the crate, “And this is our puppy Bo-Bubba. He’s kind of tired, so he’s not barky right now.”

“Nice to meet you Dawn,” Link said easily. “Got any words of advice for a tourist?”

“Suntan lotion is your friend if you got fair skin.”

Link’s brow rose and then he tilted his head as if considering her words. “Yeah, gotta say that’s pretty good advice. Anything else?”

“Well, Xander’s already covered the beach, and school spirit, but if you’re into shopping at all, the Mall has the greatest t-shirt store in the world. You can find something for pretty much anyone there …” 

“Really! How interesting. Do tell us more.” Dr. Cockroach said genially. And they were off on the next conversation.

\-----BTVS-----

“You think they’ll be alright?” Dawn asked as Willow and Xander walked her the rest of the way home. “I mean, they are kind of … different.”

Xander, who was carrying the crate for Dawn shrugged. “It’s Sunnydale. If they can be themselves anywhere, it’s here. I mean, sure, there’s bound to be some screaming, but…”

Because they were close enough to her her house, Dawn had the puppy on a leash, letting the little guy perambulate hither and thither to begin its first marking of territory and check the local animal scent communication system. “They probably get that all the time, poor guys.”

“Yeah. But while you and Xander were talking waves with Link, Dr. Cockroach showed me this nifty little ring he and Link have. He says it allows them to look like the rest of us, so there won’t be so much with the yelling and the running,” Willow said enthusiastically. “I got a copy of the blueprint. Plus, now we know a few things we didn’t know before, like I think I might actually go to Sunnydale U. They apparently have a kickin’ and very competitive computer science program. Who knew? I’m glad we met them.” 

“Yeah, we should sit in the back more often,” Dawn chirped. She nodded her head at a neighbor, who was working in their yard as they passed by. “Don’t worry, Mr. Grover, I’ll make sure Bo-Bubba doesn’t invade anyone’s yards.” 

The neighbor smiled, automatically nodded his head back and waved, “No worries Dawn. Just remember to scoop the poop if he does.”

“Sure thing!” Dawn said happily, even as her neighbor did a small double take when he spotted the two-headed puppy. For a moment it seemed as if he were going to say something, then he closed his eyes, shook his head and turned his back to them. Then he turned back, waved again and continued what he was doing before and they passed on without further comment from him.

“Maybe we could adapt that ring for Bo-Bubba,” Willow commented. “Put it on his collar. I’ll have to email Dr. Cockroach for the program, just to make sure we have the whole thing.”

Xander said, “Dawn, only go to the back of the bus when you’re with us, or your sister, who can protect you. There’s no guarantee that everyone will be so nice.”

“Right.” Dawn said, rather unconvincingly. “Say, is it prejudiced to make monsters sit in the back, even when they’re good guys?”

“I would say,” Xander said slowly, “... at this point, I don’t think bigotry is the intent. I think, it’s just Sunnydale practicality. Not everyone can be as awesome as us about these sorts of things.” 

“Point,” Willow agreed happily.

\------BTVS-----

 

 

 **Disclaimers and Author Notes:**

Disclaimers: Monsters vs. Aliens is not mine, sadly. It just seemed that there might be room for good guy monsters in a world of free-range monsters and things and I thought that if they were going to show up anywhere, it would be Sunnydale.

Santa Clara belongs to the Lost Boys, also not mine. But it was a great way to point out that “there be monsters,” in Buffy’s Universe and it’s not just in Sunnydale or Los Angeles; as well as to indicate that Dr. Cockroach is quite capable of putting two and two together. 

The Beverly Hillbillies and Dodgeball are also not mine, but I wish we actually had a real ESPN Ocho. I’d probably watch some of that. 

A/N: A humongous thank you goes out to Ironbear who took time out of his busy writing to beta mine. I am most deeply grateful and honored. I totally borrowed some of his suggested text and applied it directly to the chapter. Thus, the chapter is definitely much better because of his efforts. Trust me on this.

I should also mention that I've probably added enough after his check that I should have sent it back, but I'm going with the idea that I'm finished with this chapter and ready to move to chapter 5. So... yeah, any errors are definitely mine.

A/N I had written the bits about the mini minion machine and gnomes before reading MystofRainbow’s awesome fic with the minion-factory, which I loved! I think that’s clearly a case of “great minds, but different directions.” So, from my perspective, minion-machines and factories must be canon. :)

The gnomes started out as D&D gnomes and things just got ridiculous from there, when I remembered that certain bankers have been called gnomes and thought, oh, why not? I think MystofRainbow’s garden gnomes may be smarter than the average garden gnomes. Or at least, not as drunk as Willow believe that they must get.

A/N: An author sent me a note for an offsite response to the challenge. It's short, so far, but I laughed out loud and think you might enjoy it also. So in the spirit of sharing: 

Title: Just a little bit of elbow grease and uh-oh...  
Link: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1361419/chapters/2843044>

A/N: The Builder Lore has been updated with a definition for Hero. It may not be a good definition, but hopefully it is a helpful one.


	5. Chapter 5

BTVS: Builders: Junkyard Dog pt 5

Xander walked Willow home after they left Dawn at her house. As it was still very much daytime, they were almost perfectly safe, barring the random snatcher or bully. Willow and Xander lived surprisingly close to each other. That neither of their abodes were too far from Buffy’s, allowed the friendships to flourish and the walks to any of their homes pleasant.

Their middle class neighborhood was really only a few blocks down from the “better side,” which was a bit farther away, and often, though not always, prone to iron fences and squinty-eyed night-watchmen in glass houses. This might have explained some of the difficulty in cultivating friendships in that direction. The Bronze, however, was the great equalizer so really it wasn’t that supremely classist in Sunnydale. Friendships did successfully roam the sometimes wide financial parameters that made up the city, despite the best efforts of high school cliques.

The redhead reached and grasped his hand; a habit from childhood. They walked like that for a few minutes, enjoying the modest pace. She cast a look his way now and then, noting that his features had been tightening more and more into a very thoughtful aspect. “Wanna talk about it?”

Xander’s expression flickered, and if anyone else had been around his expression would have settled back into its general amiability. It was a talent. Instead, his expression became graver. “Too many its to talk about.”

She leaned as she walked bumping his shoulder lightly. “Well, then, maybe I’ll pick just one. Even if it’s the super easy one.”

“The super easy one?”

“Yeah, the elephant. Or maybe elephants now, but still, the big thing that has you boggled, but isn’t necessarily about Dawn or Me.”

“And how do you know it’s not about Dawn or You?”

“Because of this,” Willow said simply. Then she lifted their clasped hands, and, for a moment, just let herself be. Their hands “disappeared,” though they felt entirely solid and, if one looked closely, one could see their usual outline. But between the outline were tiny flickers of light, bouncing between and through the hands. Then, she said more firmly, as the outline refined itself back into a form of physicality. “I’d know.”

“Hmph,” Xander responded and then, despite himself, he smiled. The week before last he would have been stunned by the revelation. Today, it was brilliantly comforting. “You got a point.”

“When I’m not in panic mode, I usually do. This has all been a bit crazy, but we’ve had a week to think about things. I just wasn’t ready to face what it really meant until we were working at Uncle Rory’s, so I didn’t think, think. But it was always percolating in the back of my head anyhow.” She shrugged. “No sense in living in denial.”

He squeezed her hand gently. “One of the things I love about you, Willow, is your adaptability.”

“And now I’m even more so,” the redhead quipped. A small quiet settled between them. Somewhere in the distance a lawnmower puttered. The afternoon’s warmth proved the benefits of living in California in the Fall. She finally picked the topic she thought most pressing. “You don’t have to go back, you know. All it would take is a shift in thinking. You wouldn’t even have to borrow a face, just … I dunno, age it up a little, broaden the shoulders.”

He grinned. “You just want to be seen in the company of an older man.”

She sputtered for a moment, finally settling on, “Oh you.” A few seconds later, “Xander. Don’t go back. Come spend the night at my place. If you go home now…”

“What?”

Willow tightened her grip. “You’re too tired to do what I think you will.”

“I know we sometimes leap talk, but I’m skipping a notch in the conversation, Will.”

“If ever there was a place that was a twenty-four seven emergency zone, it is your folks’ place. I mean, I know it looks mostly okay on the outside, but I worry that, now that we know what we are, what we can do, you’ll go home and your mom or dad or something will spark your attention with one of those home repair chores and … you’ll overdo.”

Xander opened his mouth to deny that he would do something so stupid, and then closed it again as he rethought his brilliance. Then he said, more formally, “Thank you for the offer of sanctuary, Willow.”

“But you’re not going to take it.”

“No. I will, however, promise not to build anything more tonight. I won’t promise tomorrow though, now that you’ve put the idea in my head.”

“I put...I thought you already … I…” She paused just long enough to let her brain catch up with her mouth. “I feel like slapping my forehead, because I really thought you’d figured that out already.”

“Been too tired, and too caught up in changes, you know…”

“Oh. Right.” Willow nodded sheepishly.

“And you? What are you going to do now?”

Willow lightly bit her lip, looked up at the sky a moment, and then returned her attention to watching where they were walking. “I’m going to do it; emancipate myself. I’ll hack in the paperwork tonight, do a bit of fiscal housekeeping and probably have everything done by morning.”

“Wow. That fast?”

“Yeah. I’ve been… I’ve been planning it for a long time. It’s really a matter of just finally pushing the button.”

Xander nodded knowingly. “You got me set up the same way?”

Willow flicked a glance at him, offering a tilt of the head. “You think I wouldn’t?” They were both aware that Xander’s home-life wasn’t all it should be. His parents were mostly functional alcoholics, but the semi-weekly fights were often towering infernos and recently, as he grew older, they were moving toward a kind of mostly benign neglect. It wasn’t as severe as Willow’s parents, who disappeared for days on end for conferences and consultations, but there was still that sense that he could stop going home and neither of them were entirely sure if his parents would notice. It wasn’t that they didn’t love Xander. Willow knew his parents loved him, just like her parents loved her. But they were so caught up in their own drama and addictive needs, that aside from his growing chore list, he was left to make most of his way on his own, with occasional, unavoidable bouts of angry loudness that seemed to happen just because one became a teen. Room and board he had, but good parenting; maybe not so much.

“Wow,” Xander repeated. He glanced around, his eyes skipping across known elements as he subconsciously sought new components to play with. Nothing immediately stood out. The houses were basic homes, the trees and the grass were trees and grass, the black-striped cat in Ms. Simpson’s yard was a grumpy kneazle.

He blinked twice at the feline, instinctively collecting a blueprint of a magical creature that he originally thought existed only in a story. Then again, given Halloween, he should know anything was possible now. He bumped Willow’s shoulder. “Check out Ms. Simpson’s yard.”

“What?” Willow said naturally, but her attention skipped towards the well kept California suburb yard. She gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth, and whispered, “Seriously? Omigoodness.” She muffled the first impulse to squee, intuiting that it would block her ability to keep looking at the now-clear-to-her magical feline. “That’s… impossible. Do you realize what this might mean?” She squeezed Xander’s hand strongly, then let it go, because now she had things to say. “Oh, I have so many questions!” Her hands began emphasizing her thoughts. “How is it even here? I mean, I know he’s been with Ms. Simpson for a good long while in cat years, but it’s… Wait, could Ms. Simpson be magical?”

Before she could say more, Xander laid his palm against her lips. “Those are both mysteries that can be solved later, but don’t say anything else.”

She mumbled a protest against his hand. “Ah! Nothing else. The first thing we need to look to do is to taking care of our own business. Then we’ll take care of other business. If it needs taking care of. Besides which, you’re missing the important part.” He glanced back at the yard, which they’d passed already. The kneazle was gone, but he hoped their conversation had been obscure enough to be non-important to it. Because, if he remembered what he read in the Harry Potter book that Willow had shared with him, kneazles were an intelligent kind of cat.

“Ommay.”

He let go of her mouth. Then nodded seriously. “Thank you for not licking my palm.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a funny once, and should only be saved for emergencies anyway. What was the important part?” Willow asked, as they started walking again.

Xander responded, “How long have we known Ms. Simpson?”

“All our lives?”

“And how long have we known Sparky?”

“Nine years, three months and ten days.” Xander took a moment to appreciate the fact that she was able to nail that information down so quickly. It was one of the reasons he loved taking classes and playing RPGs with her. Who needed notes or a stat book when you had a Willow? The redhead nodded. “You’re right. He’s going to be there later. I mean, barring any unforeseen circumstances.”

Xander replied in high pitched voice. “Precisely.” His voice pitched down to normal. “Though that’s not the important part.”

“It’s not?” Willow queried, and she glanced at him doubtfully.

The young man took a few steps forward and began walking backward, talking to Willow face to face. “Nope. The important part is we can see the real thing now; after we learned about a certain puppy.” He gave her a meaningful look as he pointed at her for a moment. Then, dropping the point, added as he slouched a half-shrug. “Though, I realize we wouldn’t have noticed before anyhow, because, you know, no oomph and thus no enhanced vision.”

“True. But maybe you’re right and it’s also because we just needed our attention brought to it. That’s not an unusual occurrence. For instance, someone points out one red car, suddenly you see them all.” She waved vaguely at Mr. Porter’s very shiny mid-life crisis car as they passed by his house.

“Right,” Xander grinned widely and nodded, before slowing down until Willow was almost on top of him. Then he switched to walking beside her again; still facing backward. This was not that unusual an occurrence for them. This particular stretch of sidewalk ran fairly straight and Sunnydale’s paved ways tended to be very well kept; like everything else. The city wasn’t really a place that ran to decay much, except in very specific areas.

Willow continued, “We’re likely to notice the neighbors who may not be entirely homo sapien more often because of what we learned on the bus.” She smiled at Xander. “Of course, we’re very different now. Not exactly what we appear to be, either, so there is that.” She grimaced lightly, “I guess we should be grateful we don’t ping Buffy’s bad-dar.”

“Things to be grateful for, definitely. Buffy still sees us as her friends, which is of the good and a higher truth.” the young man nodded fiercely. “Which brings us back to....,” Xander turned around so they were walking parallel and both facing forward, once again taking her hand. “I’m going to take you up on your offer, Willow, but not yet. I have to at least talk to my parents first.”

She suddenly looked worried. “Are you sure, Xan? Because, you know, that could involve a lot of yelling.”

He shook his head and gave his chosen-sibling a brief side-hug. “I don’t think so. I mean, I am sure, but I don’t think there will be as much yelling about this as you might think. I mean, Dad keeps talking about when he was my age Grandpa had him signed up for the Army because he wanted his son to be a contributing member of society. At least Dad hasn’t done that to me.” His expression became rueful. “Yet. Given that he’s been muttering about me paying rent after my next birthday, I... probably should be proactive. Even if it does mean that Mom might cry.”

Willow’s voice was full of sadness. “Oh Xander.”

He shrugged and smiled anyhow. Like he always did. “It’s not that big a deal. I mean, we do have our resources now, right. And, if it came to it, I’m pretty sure Uncle Rory would let me stay at his place.”

Willow grinned widely. “Especially now. He probably would pay you for it.” They both chuckled at that thought.

“So...” The word carried between them for a bit as Xander carried the next bit of conversation, “Since you’re going to emancipate yourself, what are you going to do about a place? Are you going to try for your house? I mean, you technically have lived there longer than your parents.”

“Well, yeah, the living part is true,” Willow said cautiously. “But they own the deed and I don’t. According to my avatar, contracts count and my care has been fairly automated for such a long time that any sense of dire is long gone, so there is no emergency. I need to think about it first.”

“Really?” He asked. They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn in their favor.

“Yeah. I mean, on the one hand,” which she demonstrated by holding out one hand. “... I can think of a half a dozen things I would like to fix in the house in general. But I don’t know if I want to go through the bother of claiming things, just so I can live there. I already do and, well... I don’t know.”

She shrugged and then she waved her hand in a vaguely writing motion. “I can just add stuff like fixing things to my chore list and it would be valid for me. Mom and Dad expect me to get repairs done anyhow. It’s just normally I’d call someone else. Now I don’t have to.” Xander nodded in understanding, as the redhead continued. ‘So small fixes and mini-builds are maybe in my future. But I don’t know. I’m not even sure I would want to have a generic house as my home-base anyhow.”

The light changed and they started walking again.

Xander said, “Huh. That makes sense. And, you know, chores as mini-builds is something I can support.” Then he blinked as realization set in. “I can kind of see why you were worried. Dad says he wants me to fix the sink and if he asks me anytime soon, next think I know it will be....”

“Brand new kitchen?” Willow offered with a teasing grin.

Xander smiled back at the small joke. “Or at least sink and a dishwasher. But, yeah, new kitchen would be likely, if kind of weird for my family. I’d have to figure a way to get them out of the house while I did it.” He paused and then grimaced. “Okay, even the thought of that makes me tired, so yes, I’ll keep my promise.”

Willow bumped his shoulder lightly her own. It required a small hop to do it, but was worth the effort. “I know you will. You always do.”

“So,” Xander paused dramatically and then said, “... now that the one tiny elephant has been chewed, I may be up for another, before we get to your place.”

“You sure?” Willow checked.

“Yeah. Hit me.”

She obliged with a sock to the shoulder, which led to a few moments of hand-slappy silliness, then when the giggles stopped and they’d managed to catch their breath, she said, “I hereby officially disband the We Hate Cordelia club.”

Xander stopped walking so hard and abruptly that it seemed as if he’d become a bobble-head doll.

On the one hand, a person couldn’t squeal, “ _Why?_ ” without sounding ridiculous, so he didn’t do that. On the other hand, his boggled mind had a hard time catching up with the rest of Willow’s commentary, which hadn’t stopped, even when she had come back to get him to drag him along with her. His hearing parsed snippets, and it was probable that the full rambling set of details were still in his memory, but the snippets were startling enough on their own to keep him discombobulated.

“...years ago and we’re different people…. After all, we already know what works and who we are. We can afford to be….” Xander slapped the side of his head, because it seemed as if his hearing was buzzing just then. Willow, being who she was when in deep conversation, carried on as if he hadn’t just tried to hard boot himself. From that point it seemed as if her words faded in and out, sounding oddly surreal as he tried to mentally catch up “... flexible, which you know Jesse totally appreciated, but there’s no reason to wait forever just because he died….. It’s cool that it worked out for the other Willow and Xander though, but right now I want try new things, because …. I suddenly thought Harmony was attractive, or maybe not so suddenly, but now I can admit it and once I admitted it to myself I thought maybe I’d like to date her….We are going to live such a long time, that we ought to fill our time with things and people we enjoy, even if they are fireflies to our sun, which makes any moment we have with them very valuable. So why not let the past go….”

He suddenly rejoined the conversation at relatively normal speed. “Wait. Wait. Back up. Did you just say you wanted to date Harmony?” Even as he asked the question he blushed, because his thoughts had already dashed laughing and cackling through the gutter. Enough so, that his eyes started glazing over. That is, until he felt a brief, sharp sting on the back of head. “Ow.”

He didn’t have to ask why, as Willow grinned at him wryly. She said, “I know. It’s so wrong, but right, right?” He groaned a basic agreement as she continued, “It was unavoidably brought to my attention during Halloween that culturally and practically speaking, given our ultimate nature, boys and girls and sundry are awesome-sauce to our biscuits.”

“Thank you crazy Japanese artists,” quipped Xander.

She laughed and said, “Ha. The joys of cross-cultural contamination, that. And the power of the internet. That said, like many others have noted, say what you want about her personality at the moment, but Harmony has much to recommend herself otherwise.”

“Don’t let the basketball team hear you say that.” Then his grin turned teasing. “Then again, they may like it.”

She slapped his shoulder and laughed. “Bad Xander, but yeah. I take to heart the lesson of Jonathon at lunchtime.” There was a short pause and she said, as her hands moved, wafting the air in a feminine shape. “Still, my hands just want to follow her curves, and do a bit more than that, if you get what I mean. But don’t worry. I know it’s just a thought and not going anywhere, for many, many reasons. Including the very tall and protective dudes.”

She sighed as she symbolically let the dream go. “I also know I need someone who can at least pretend to keep up with me and we both know that’s not Harmony. Or at least it wasn’t. Maybe she changed at Halloween. I don’t know, because, you know, it’s not like we talk. It’s more like she says words and I try to ignore them, because they’re usually kind of mean.” Her hands fluttered as she said that. Then she got back on topic. “But then, like I do, I started listing out who we know that might fit the bill. Which is why I realized I was being totally hypocritical about Cordelia and that I had been totally unfair to you and Jesse.”

“That seems kind of convoluted,” Xander commented, but he learned long ago not to try and track how she arrived at certain mental destinations.

“Maybe a little.” She admitted. Then she said, “But the end result is that I realized I had to step out of the way. After all, it’s not a competition any more. I’ve got my Xander brother, regardless.” She pressed his arm in reassurance. “I just suddenly realized it was too much effort to stay jealous and envious forever; it’s too long a time-frame when you know what that really means. And now, I’ve got things and people to do of my own; eventually.” She smiled brightly at Xander. “Thus, the disbanding of the club. It is hereby official. If, for whatever crazy, insane reason you ever decide you want to get to know her better, even if it’s so you can tell Jesse that you made your peace and got to tell her how awesome he is and was, you have my blessing.”

Xander coughed to blink back the abrupt new shine in his eyes. “Don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

She gave him a side-hug, which he didn’t let go, and they walked the rest of the way to her house in silence.

\-----BTVS-----

Dawn looked at the puppy, who wriggled in her grasp. She paused on the porch, not quite ready to enter, because she needed a moment to psych herself up. So she said to Bo-Bubba, “Okay, here’s the thing. We used to be pet people. It was a series of unfortunate events, you see. We had a cat and a dog, Mr. Pete and Tawny the Great. But they disappeared back towards the end of Buffy’s Hemery days. We can guess why now, but then it was traumatic and much blame and accusation was had in the divorce proceedings. And then there was the goldfish massacre of ‘96, which totally wasn’t anyone’s fault, but who knew that the food-ball we used for the vacation trip would be faulty and release all at once? We sure didn’t. Anyhow, my point is, Bo-Bubba, that it has been awhile since this family has had a pet and you may have to be a little patient with people. Also, it’s probably not a good idea to pee anywhere that isn’t designated. Mom can be very forgiving, but we want to put our best foot forward, don’t we?”

Bo-Bubba licked her face in reply, which she took to mean he understood; even though she knew he probably was just being puppy-friendly.

She smiled. “I knew you’d see reason.” She paused and let out a long exhale. When she felt calmer, Dawn said, “Okay, let’s do this thing.” Then she opened the front door and stepped into the welcoming shelter of her home.

“Mom? I’m home!” she called.

With no immediate answer, Dawn scooted further into the house, letting the door close behind her a bit more noisily than usual. She was about to start physically exploring then she had a better idea and took a moment to really look around. The information spread out in her mind’s eye, and, while it wasn’t exactly “x-ray,” vision, she spotted a notational “dot,” of her mom in the basement. “Aha!” She blinked it away and her vision returned to normal. “Great, so no wonder she couldn’t hear me. Laundry.” She put the puppy down, holding onto the leash so he couldn’t just ramble about yet. “Maybe this is for the best, Bo-Bubba. I’ll set your crate here, but let’s go to the kitchen and get your water bowl filled.”

As she passed the kitchen’s breakfast nook, she grabbed a remnant of the daily paper and folded it before placing it strategically on the floor. She carefully looped the handle of the leash around the headboard of one of the kitchen chairs while she filled the water bowl, which she then set down on the paper. As she rose she heard, “Oh. You’re home.”

Dawn might have bounced up a little more perkily than usual. “Hey mom!”

By then, however, Joyce’s attention was already following the line of the leash, which disappeared under the kitchen’s table. “What do we have here?” She asked mildly.

Dawn paused, and looked up, over the table’s edge, having suddenly forgotten all her fancy arguments and cool phraseology. “Um. Well. You see…” Now her mom’s gaze was on her, and there was a look; a mom look, though it wasn’t the scary, doom kind of look. But it was still an irresistible summons to confession, which had to be a secret Mom Power; and this, without even seeing Bo-Bubba yet. “Halloween,” Dawn squeaked. “It started on Halloween.” The next thing Dawn knew she had started talking, spilling all that had happened that day and the days following, revealing how hungry she had been all week, confessing to eating her mom’s reserve super-fudge-chunk ice cream and Buffy’s banana swirl, as well as pretty much anything that counted as food in the ‘fridge. The confession eventually led to her lifting the hound and placing him on the table after the big explanation.

This would normally have been a big no-no, but Dawn figured this was so important she’d take the risk of her Mom’s displeasure. So she then introduced him,“Mom, this is Bo-Bubba and he is a hell-hound.”

Her mother did a classic doubletake, blinking and shaking her head in astonishment. She exclaimed and pointed, “He has _two_ heads!”

Dawn felt hope because she didn’t even mention that there was a dog on the table. Sometimes the weird distraction was for the best.

“Yes. Exactly. Most Hell-hounds do,” Dawn rushed through the rest of the introduction so there wouldn’t be any unnecessary misunderstanding. Or questions. “But that name doesn’t mean what it sounds like. It’s just his breed.” She then gave a brief description of what they’d been told by the vet about his care and keeping. Then she said, “They are actually really good family dogs and he needs a forever home. Xander and Willow were perfectly willing to share responsibilities. But I said that you and Buffy would think he was as awesome as I did.” She hoped, that despite her mom’s astonishment, she could see how sweet the puppy really was

Quiet descended heavily upon the kitchen, save for the sound of the ‘fridge and Bo-Bubba’s curious sniffs and snuffles. The hound padded around the table, gaining the scent of the mat and centerpiece, which happened to be a rather bold selection of daisies in a bowl, and then he wandered toward the very wide-eyed and still pointing Joyce, forelegs in a front stretch and tail wagging at the back and yipped.

It seemed like everything held its breath, just for a moment. Then Joyce’s expression quirked in a perplexed, but oddly delighted smile. She quit pointing and sat back a little more, deliberately letting herself appear more relaxed. “Well,” she offered and the words stalled, before she tried again. She cocked a brow at Dawn and cleared her throat. “It seems that the missing food question has been answered.” She nodded firmly at her daughter. “We will be coming back to that.” Then she took a deep breath and nodded meaningfully in the puppy’s direction. “And you know the pet rules.”

Dawn nodded emphatically. “We are all responsible, but since I brought him, I am most responsible to make sure that he is fed, watered and walked.”

“And because he’s a baby...” Joyce laid her hand on the table, palm up, and her lips quirked up further as both heads wuffled around her hand and pushed, as if trying to get her to pet him. She was apparently easily persuaded and her smile turned warm and genuine. The delight felt even more tangible in the air.

Dawn let go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

“Puppy protocols. He gets a space of his own to get used to before anyone lets him on any bed. He will get puppy trained. Since it is his home too, he can be on some furniture, but the guest chair is sacrosanct and will be protected.” Dawn blinked and started to rise. “Which means I gotta get the plastic protection…”

“Sit down.” Joyce said sternly. It was the tone of voice more than anything, but both Dawn and Bo-Bubba sat immediately. “I will handle the guest furniture. Later.” Joyce took a moment to gather her thoughts and the puppy rolled to let her pet its belly. It was kind of hard to argue that what Dawn said couldn’t possibly have happened with the evidence before her. Which meant… It was as if a veil lifted from her mind’s eye and the new information provided by her youngest put many other things into unavoidable context. “Now, tell me about Halloween again, only this time, tell me what you know about what happened with your sister. And say it slow, because I have many questions about what happened to you and she and you should expect interruptions. Many of them.”

Dawn swallowed and managed half a smile. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Dawn Marie…”

\-----BTVS-----

Buffy handed the phone back to Giles and then sat down abruptly on couch, all thoughts of training and the misery of doing her own research on a weekend forgotten.

Mr. Giles’ plucked his glasses from his face and began to polish them slowly, as he tried to keep his tone supportive. “What did she say?”

Buffy shook her head and blinked as if she were having trouble processing everything, but in the end she spoke. “I’m grounded. Like for the foreseeable future. And I’m foreseeing a long, _long future_ ,” she said morosely. She glanced up at her watcher, explaining before he needed to stumble through asking. “She knows I’ve been leaving the house late at night. Without permission, she said. She said, that wasn’t really what she was mad at, even though she was pretty hot about it. She said… that … that… while you may be my Watcher…”

Rupert’s glasses took on a new shine as he began polishing faster.

“I know, right.” Buffy said distractedly, as she carried on. “...you weren’t my parent and that there were reasons for curfew. Rather traditional ones, regarding safety and a parent always knowing where their under-age child was, and as independent as I am, I am still her daughter and still only sixteen and still in trouble for exiting the house without a backup means of contacting her or a note, at the very least. And that’s not all, but the real reason I’m grounded… the real reason…” Buffy paused dramatically before saying, “Is that I have been trying to date someone much too old for me and I would have been in deep trouble for that alone, regardless of the fact that the person is over a couple hundred years plus older than me; not to mention the fact his favorite food group is blood.”

Buffy didn’t even know that Mr. Giles knew that word, but somehow, she wasn’t as surprised as she was at having her mother call and read her the riot act. So… “I know!”

She shrugged then, and said, “I have no idea how she found out about all this. I know Xander and Willow would never say anything and Dawn doesn’t know anything except what happened on Halloween.” She raised her hands and let the drop into her lap in frustration. “It’s like she pulled everything out of thin air.” Then she grimaced. “Needless to say, the cat is out, as they say and she is in the know enough to be mad about it. On the sunny side, there was not one single mention of asylums. So there is that. That said, she wants me home by seven for dinner and you’re invited so she can interrogate you and suchlike. It is kind of imperative for you to attend, but I think you might want to put on some fire-proof clothing because I think she wants to set you on fire right now.”

Mr. Giles made a coughing noise and finally just let his hands drop, his glasses dangling as he tapped them against his leg. He offered a rueful smile. “Well, at least I’ll get a free barbeque out of it then.”

“Mm. Burnt librarian. My favorite,” Buffy quipped.

\-----BTVS-----

The cool thing about telling her mom all was the immediate access to all the consumables. Admittedly, Dawn promised her mom a self-renewing food storage when she was feeling up to it, but the access to the edible goods and the permission to clear out the junk-room was win-win from both of their perspectives. Still, despite the energy plus, Dawn needed a nap and so she put the kennel and Bo-Bubba in the lower-level bathroom and herself on the couch so she could get up if he cried.

She totally planned on being awakened, but the next thing she knew, she was summoned to slow alertness by wonderful smells and the sound of the front door opening.

She heard her sister say, “Mom, I’m home and Mr. Giles is here.”

“I’m in the kitchen. Come on in.”

Oddly, despite the tension she heard in her Mom’s voice, that homey exchange was comforting. Stretching lightly, Dawn considered whether she had the oomph to be nosy and decided, “Yep. I sure have.”

So, with a small bounce, she righted herself and made her way to the kitchen, only to be thwarted with a chore-list involving set up for dinner from her Mom.

She hurried, but didn’t Builder hurry, because that would have gotten her in trouble and she figured Buffy was in enough for both of them; and given that it was kind of her fault, Dawn found even that bit of rush dwindling. Their Mom might not mention who spilled the beans, but her sister only played dumb. Dawn was suddenly grateful for the interference.

Still it took almost no time to set the table and she reckoned that the shriving was probably not done yet. So she hollered, “Mom, I’m going out back for a minute!”

“Take the thing you put in the bathroom and put it away in your room.”

Right. Mr. Giles was still in no-tell land. “Okay, Mom!” Grateful for the reminder, Dawn applied a bit of zoom, gathering Bo-Bubba and the general supplies together. Without really thinking about it she stored the kennel and various items away in her pocket storage and went outside to give the older people some privacy. She figured fifteen minutes ought to do it.

Maybe twenty to be sure.

\-----BTVS-----

Later, she greeted a pale, on the edge of trembling, librarian and her equally shaken sister as she sat down at the table. She most carefully did not comment on that; instead choosing to eye the prepared food like a hungry shark. “Looks great,” she said enthusiastically. Not only did the dinner look and smell wonderful, it also was enough to feed a small army; or a Slayer and a hungry Builder. Home-cooked for the win!

Joyce smiled brightly at her youngest. “Thank you.” She turned to Mr. Giles. “Rupert, if you will offer the grace please.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course.”

The prayer was brief and oddly heartfelt. After which, Dawn and Buffy immediately reached for the food at the same time.

“Me first. I’m the oldest.” Buffy claimed.

“I’m the closest.”

The resulting zealous hand slapping for dominance was immediately thwarted as Joyce snapped out. “Manners. You may have as much as you need, but you will be civilized about it. As Rupert is our guest, he goes first.”

And with that, Dawn realized her Mom had yet another superpower; the ability to set the rules and have them followed.

\-----BTVS-----

Elsewhere, in a house far more empty of parental guidance, Willow Rosenberg changed the course of her life with a few button presses. She watched her computer screen as the alteration of her circumstances became fact and true independence became a reality. She expected a moment of rumination, what she did not expect was a deeply felt shift in her sense of self as the bonding ties of parental responsibility loosed.

She gasped as her perspective literally adjusted to the new state of being. She had no idea that those ties had been a form of contract; violated in spirit and now deconstructed with a frightening pace. She watched as her progenitors, for they were still her family, lost rights and codicils in her virtual mental space. New options appeared, ready for her to choose, as her home reflected the truth that it was she who resided longest and most within the domicile. The contract of ownership wavered in the space of truth and law. Truth, it was her home. This was good as it kept the vampires out. By law, it was her parent’s building.

The option for claiming had become vibrantly accessible. It pulsed in her vision, waiting for her choice.

And she paused a moment, realizing something profound. Whatever her parents had done to her, they had never left her without a home. She’d always had someplace safe to go, even on the worst day. Taking their home away might be justice, but it wouldn’t be satisfying or kind. They wouldn’t care about her emancipation. They were probably expecting it any day. But they would have cared about losing their home.

Not realizing that the choice she made would distinguish her from a multiverse of more other-inclined Willows, the Builder opted to leave her family home alone. She justified it one way, by telling herself she wanted her own place. Ultimately, however, it was an act of love that would never be fully visible to her parents, but have long lasting positive repercussions.

Satisfied with her choice, she turned back to her original plans. Because she was a perfectionist in many things, when she had set out what needed doing for her emancipation, she had also made plans for what to do afterwards; in case she had to move out. With another few button pushes, Willow was set to become the proud owner of the defunct Calax Research and Development suite of buildings, funded through the carefully nurtured seed money she’d siphoned away from Malcom when he had targeted her so long ago. In her original plans she intended to raze CRD to the ground and salt it.

She was kind of angry when she was making those kinds of decisions.

Now, however, she had an even better means for self-reparation. The razing would happen, but so would a new home. She would figure out how to move it out of the commercial district later; if she needed to.

Smiling in deep, slightly vengeful satisfaction, she made the final selection and watched as the changes became official. So, maybe she wasn’t all sweetness and light. She was mostly okay with that.

\-----BTVS-----  
End of Chapter

Notes: Once again, my thanks extend to my beta readers and especially to [Ironbear](http://www.tthfanfic.org/Author-10148/Ironbear.htm). Frankly, this chapter wouldn't be the same without his efforts. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**BTVS: Builder: Junkyard Dog Chapter Six**

Buffy stormed into the kitchen. “Dawn! What did you do with my tiny black boots?”

Dawn, who was in the process of devouring bagels with cheese and sundry other goodies at the kitchen’s bar/table, stopped mid-delivery-to-mouth and swallowed what she’d already started chewing. She dropped the white pencil she had been using to mark up her plans and looked up. The blueprint and some various tools for measuring, aligning, and drawing were slightly to the right of her breakfast. Dawn’s expression turned puzzled. “Which boots?”

The planning materials were mostly unnoticed by Buffy, whose attention was focused rather myopically on her own problems at the moment. She figured it was some weird homework for Dawn and categorized in her head as such. “You know very well which ones. The black ones, with the silver buckle. Patent leather and shiny. Ankle height.”

“I vaguely recall what you’re talking about, but...” Dawn pivoted in her seat and lifted her feet so Buffy could see them clearly. She even wriggled her toes. Then, because teasing her sister was an art-form, she said “You will note that I’m not wearing them.” She smirked. Then softened a little, because of the expression on her sister’s face. So she offered, “Sorry, Buffy, I have no idea where they are. I’d even let you look in my room if I thought they were there. But, they’re probably wherever you put them last, because I don’t remember seeing them when I organized your closet.” 

Ah, see that, the power of having a huge favor owed is at work. Dawn worked not to smirk too badly. Buffy grimaced an acknowledgment and backed off from the angry. Okay, so maybe it was time to strike a bargain that would work to everyone’s benefit, especially Dawn’s, and shore that up a bit. “Hey, do you mind if I tweak your closet some more? I had some ideas I want to try. You’ll like it, I promise.”

The elder sibling huffed in annoyance, “Now I have to change my whole outfit.” She waved her hand in a nonchalant gesture, although her expression had the tinge of someone who was secretly pleased. “And sure, knock yourself out. Maybe you’ll find my boots.” She did try not to sound peevish, but wasn't too successful. She really had wanted to wear something particular.

“You’re wearing jeans and a tee,” Dawn pointed out as she returned to a more correct sitting position. She took another bite of bagel and smiled to herself. She was pleased because she hadn't had to cross her fingers, even mentally, once. Once she was done with Buffy’s closet, an ignorant sister was going to be a happier and safer slayer. That is, if she did things right.

“Which is why those boots would have been perfect. I had a cool belt and purse planned for the whole look.” Buffy frowned and glowered about the kitchen as if it would solve the mystery.

“Right,” Dawn nodded while she ate more of her breakfast. “So you’re not hanging around the house?”

“Not today.” Buffy paused and added, “I guess you figured out I was in a little trouble yesterday.”

“Maybe. But, hey, if you going out is okay with Mom, I’m not stopping you.” Dawn shrugged.

“It’s okay. She knows where I’m going to be.” Buffy admitted, just a touch pensively. In fact, knowledge about destinations was one of the agreements that kept the slayer out of the deep end of the figurative doghouse. Though she still did feel a bit leashed. On the other hand, her mom hadn’t put really large limits on where she could go, only demanded to know where she was going and how she could be reached. This wasn't to say punishment hadn't happened, it had. But, the less said and thought about, the better.

Fortunately, her mom was practical, and, on the plus side, Buffy was going to get a nifty new phone soon. So, on the scale of worth it and not, it was worth it.

“Okay then. If I see your boots, I’ll be sure and put them in your room or whatever. Want me to save you some breakfast?”

Buffy said, “Thanks. And no. I’ll get my own.” Then she turned around and stalked back to her room.

Dawn shrugged again, and then picking up a pencil, began working on the plans she had for the kitchen and storage area with a breathy little hum of pleasure.

\-----BTVS-----

A few minutes later, Dawn jerked away from the kitchen table as a loud squeal of noise rocketed through the house. It took her a moment to place what the noise was, as it had been awhile since she’d heard that kind of sound from her sister. It took her a couple more moments to process what her inner console was telling her.

She leaped off the chair-slash-stool and skittered out of the kitchen, like her butt was on fire. Behind her the blueprint fluttered to the ground, covering the dropped pencil. She raced up the stairs, pounding hard enough to make solid thumps on the thick, carpeted surface.

She vaguely heard her mom’s call of, “What on earth is going on? Did I raise elephants?” But she was on a mission, so she disregarded the chastisement. 

She entered the familiar hallway and saw the door to her room open and she heard Buffy. She was cooing, or near enough to both set Dawn’s heart pounding in relief after that not so gentle brief burst of fear. After all, if you’re going to kill something, you don’t sound like you’re going to cuddle it first. “That is not a toy. No it’s not. Not a toy.”

“Buff....,” Dawn led, as she occupied space in the doorway, leaning a bit against the beams. Her sister was sitting on on the floor on the other side of her bed, near the vanity, so that meant she was half hidden from view. “What are you doing?” The in-my-room was implied. 

Buffy looked up, as if confused about being asked a question. Then she smiled one of the most brilliant grins that Dawn could ever remember seeing on her sister’s face. It actually made the young Builder step back and then she felt her heart flutter in another bout of panic as the slayer lifted Bo-Bubba into view. Both Bo and Bubba had a solid, toothy, slobbery hold on a shiny black boot. 

Dawn’s jaw dropped. “Oh Buffy. I swear, I didn't know. It wasn't there... I mean, I have no idea how Bo-Bubba got that. I don’t even know where the other shoe is. And how did....”

At the same time, Buffy said, “I heard him, so I had to come in. We have a puppy. With a name even? Bo-Bubba? I like it.” She grinned even wider, and then gave her sister the narrow-eye. “When did we get a puppy and does mom know?”

Bo-Bubba decided to get in on the act and jiggled the shoe, growling a bit, both heads gripping at it in a pretty useless, but horribly cute tug of war. 

This, to Dawn’s utter shock, made the slayer laugh as she then tried to liberate the shoe from the puppy’s “fierce,” grasp. “Not a toy,” she said again, giggling as she said it. 

“Aren't you going to say anything about...” Dawn waved her hand in Bo-Bubba’s direction.

Buffy managed to look blank. “About what? The shoe. Oh, well, que sera and all of that. I’ll buy a new pair. But we can’t just let him keep chewing on this, because then he’ll think all shoes are fair game.”

“No, you’re right, but... Buffy...haven’t you noticed that he’s kind of...”

“Darling?” Buffy waggled the puppy a bit, which made him try to wriggle forward in her hand. “Yep, I noticed that part right away.” Then her expression turned sly, “Or are you trying to figure out if I noticed that he had two heads.”

Dawn paled. “You can’t slay him.”

This time it was Buffy’s turn to look surprised. “Slay him? This little guy?” She drew him close, protectively. Bo let go of the shoe. “No way. He’s too cute.” Again there was that look, which reminded Dawn that her sister was smarter than she acted, by a long shot. “And I know how much he’s worth.” Then her expression brightened again. “Besides, he brings back good memories.”

Dawn blinked. “He does?”

Buffy finally managed to get the shoe away from Bubba, and let go a partial sigh. “Yeah.” Her smile took on a sadder aspect, though it was still there. “He does. You probably don’t remember Pike.”

“The dude with the bike? Oh, I remember him. He was...”

“Hot.” Buffy’s eyes held a touch of feminine predator in them, which Dawn briefly reflected. “Yeah, fun times. He had this friend who built motorcycles...”

Dawn, feeling a bit more sanguine, approached her bed and sat on it, still watching her sister, who was absently playing with Bo-Bubba. “Yeah?” 

Buffy shared, “Well, his friend also had a hobby of acquiring interesting pets.”

Dawn blinked and said, “Oh,” then there was a beat and she said, again, “Oh! Right. So you've... seen...”

“A Hell Hound before, yeah. But I think this little guy is way cuter.” Buffy’s smile turned introspective again, then she shook it off. “You never did say whether Mom knew.”

“She knows,” said their mom, who entered Dawn’s bedroom, with a smile. She took a seat on the tail end of the bed, so she was centered between her two girls. “And I think I've heard more about your young friend just now than when you were dating him.” 

“Yeah, well,” Buffy shrugged and hugged the puppy before setting him on the bed. “There wasn't much to tell after and during....” 

“You had other things to occupy your attention,” their mom said with a smile. 

Which caused both Buffy and Dawn to laugh, as the slayer replied, “Yeah. I really did.” 

\-----BTVS-----

Xander’s favorite day was Sunday. His least favorite holiday was Christmas. However, a Christmas that fell on a Sunday was a miraculous event. Unfortunately, it was one that had happened only twice in his life. He still remembered those days with a happy vibrancy that would have scared a Dementor away. If he ever met a Dementor, that is. And was named Harry Potter or something. 

Anyhow, very few people actually knew this, but there was a reason for his enjoyment of the day in general. First, on Sunday, he could wake up at a leisurely pace. His parents normally would not be up until at least nine. Second, this was the one day that his parents remained nominally sober for the majority of the day. Friday night was for partying. Saturday was for recreation and recreational drinking, but Sunday was the day for recovery. Drinking sometimes still happened, but comparatively speaking they drank very lightly, as they prepared their minds and selves for work. According to his mom, Jessica, it gave their livers a chance to rest. According to his dad, Tony, it started as vaguely remembered church habit.

When he was younger what it meant was that Sunday was family day, another plus in the day’s direction. What it meant now was something slightly different. When he’d come to a certain age, staying at home with Mom and Dad seemed much less important than being with his friends. So it meant some time spent at home and then gleeful escape to be with his buddies, which was a third reason to love the day. 

Now, as he contemplated things, he had to wonder if the growing distance between himself and his parents was at least partially his fault. Not mainly, because, hey, they are and were the grown ups, but... he was a teen. And freedom and room to grow and such.

He decided he might be thinking a bit too hard on the topic and he rotated his thoughts around back to the idea of calling a brief family breakfast conference. Then he would ask for his chore list for the week.

As he thought about what he intended to do with that list and a few carefully worded questions, Xander propped his hands behind his head and grinned. He could hardly wait.

\-----BTVS-----

Breakfast at Xander’s on Sunday was a bit more buffet than formal, but it was usually a breakfast for champions; a fourth reason to love the day. Jessica insisted that real food be served at breakfast, at least. Lunch and dinner, on the other hand, were catch as catch can. Again, something Xander understood to be slightly opposite of most of the world, but it was fine by him. And now that he thought upon it, realizing his usual patterns, it made him appreciate that maybe it was his mom’s way of making sure they had some of that family time before he ran tearing off to be with his friends. Plus he’d had a few weeks where the Sunday morning meal carried him over to Tuesday, because his mom, when she had the spirit on her could make breakfasts of glory. Not all the time, not every Sunday, but often enough that it was another tally for making the day one of his favorites; five – a powerful magical number of awesome, proving the point.

Today was one of those days, where glory reigned. Apparently they were having a convention at their house. She’d even pulled out the guest buffet service, with a pan filled to the brim with cheesy scrambled eggs (still quite warm and appropriately mushy because of the lit Sterno underneath), hash browns, gravy, a big pan of perfectly cooked bacon. Not to mention the coffee, veggie and fruit juices, bagels, cheeses and spreads for the bagels, tortillas for the eggs, and more. It was the whole breakfast kit.

The only thing that could have made it better was if there were Twinkies or other delicious sweet treats at the table, but his mom had forbidden that as breakfast food a long time ago. Her words had run along the line of, “When you own your own house, you can have whatever breakfast you want, but so long as this is my house and I’m cooking, you will eat what is served.” This was usually not a problem. 

Still, Xander kept his mouth shut about the staggering amount of food, not just because he was a very hungry Builder, but because he also knew it meant that this might be one of those till Tuesday meals. Or rather, it had a good fifty, sixty percent chance of being so. Okay, maybe twenty percent, because... Builder now. Not that he had to worry about how to acquire more food any more anyhow, but he’d wait and see, as he’d learned long ago not to question the abundance. What had been served could be so, so easily taken away. And then there would be no breakfasts or meals or what have you for too, too long.

An angry Jessica was a spiteful Jessica, which led to an angry, bitter and meaner Tony, which coupled with deep drinking and uninhibited responses derived there-from then led to a very sorry, sorry Xander who did not stay home until things cooled down; which could also result in either better or worse situations, depending.

It was so much better just to scoop the food and sing the praises.

So much better.

Okay, so there were a few Sundays in memory that were absolutely, utterly more foul and rotten and just plain shittier than any other day too and that had ranked right up there with regular not-Sunday Christmases. Xander took it as hazard pay for the days of awesome and just accepted that it had to be a cosmic balance kind of thing. And, a crazy drunk thing.

With one more glance around, he let his inner console do the examining, looking for anything that might catch his eye. 

While there was plenty of interesting details, relating to repair and reconditioning, oddly, there was also a notation when he glanced at his mom. Mood: Excellent. He mentally clicked what looked like a link and more information claimed his attention. Invite: Willow? Chance of approval: 75% Yes.

“Wow,” he uttered nearly silently, thinking he could have used that oodles of times before in his life. Oodles. If Xander hadn’t had plans for a specific kind of conversation he’d totally take advantage of the chance. But what he had to do was important, though the mood indicator gave him hope of some success. He plastered a smile on his face, picked up a plate and some soft tortillas and said, “Mom, this looks great!”

\-----BTVS-----

Tony Harris often read the newspaper with breakfast, but the paper had been set aside a long time ago. Now, with an empty plate and glass in front of him, his full attention was on his son. His brows were only slightly compressed, as he was not angry at the young man, merely puzzled; and oddly pleased. He asked, gruffly, “You sure about this?”

Xander had also finished his breakfast some time ago. He glanced at his parents. His mom had a stunned expression on her face, while his dad’s expression had taken on a new aspect that Xander couldn’t quite recognize.

The young man cleared his throat, as he tried to avoid shrugging. That would look weak and he was trying to avoid conveying anything other than readiness. Then he exhaled and set his palms firmly on the table so he wouldn’t fidget and it would help him look more serious. “Yeah Dad. I’ve been thinking about things for awhile now. But I am also serious that I don’t want to leave you guys in a lurch. So, I want you to list out those outstanding chores and things that need doing, and I’ll make sure they get done during the week; while you’re at work. And, if it’s okay, with you, maybe I might fix things I spot on my own.”

His father pursed his lips and sat back, tucking one of his thumbs in his belt. “I think we could work with that. And yes, I’ll give you permission to fix things you think need fixing. If you can do it properly, that is.”

Despite himself, Xander grinned. “Excellent.” 

Tony nodded. “I’ll make sure to leave you some cash so you don’t have to come asking for it.”

Xander said, “Cool.” 

Xander let go of a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He said, “Then I’ll set w... my arrangements in order and by the week after, I’ll move into my own place.”

“Seems kind of sudden.” Jessica said, earnestly. “You’re still pretty young. I could understand, a summer getaway, but moving out?”

This time Xander allowed himself to shrug. It wouldn’t appear weak this time. “Yeah, but it’s not really sudden. I be seventeen soon and I think you both know this has been coming. I mean, threes a crowd, and while I still plan the road trip after I graduate, I know I can do this now and it’ll work out. Plus, I know the stories. By this time, you were already on your own, Dad. And, I gotta say, I respect that. And I would stay longer, normally, but I have some things I need to do.”

“But,” interjected Xander’s mom.

Tony laid his hand on hers. “No, Jessica. This is good. He’s making a choice. I’ve been waiting for this a long time. He’s choosing to be a man.” 

Xander cleared his throat and offered his best, I-am-old-enough-smile. “We have an agreement then?”

His dad’s brows rose a little in surprise at the formality of the phrasing, but he nodded again. “We do.” He extended his hand, which his son took and they shook, once.

“Cool.” Xander felt the pleasure and relief as the contract, implied and stated settled into place, once they released the shake. 

Meanwhile, Tony pasted a stern look on his face. “Son, you do this, and...”

Xander paled as an uncomfortable thrill wrapped around his spine. Was this the rejection he’d always feared?

“... you’ll still be welcome at this house. Don’t think you have to do everything on your own. My old man, he had his issues, and he was a hard man, but he taught me that every generation has the choice and chance to improve. He may have put me at the station, and I know he didn’t like and agree with all my choices, but I knew I had a place to go home to after it was said and done. I want you to know the same.”

Xander blinked hard, feeling a sharp moisture at his eyelids and a heavy warmth in his chest. He had to clear his throat several times and his reply still came out squeaky. “Okay Dad. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.”

–---BTVS-----

Willow tilted her hardhat up a bit, wiped her brow with a cloth and then, taking a stance of pride, propped her hands on her hips. She felt her hat settle down, as if pressed by another less visible hand. She really liked the whole telekinetic extra-hands thing. Once she’d awakened for the day, she found herself using the invisible and very extendable ability far more often and naturally than she’d anticipated. Even limited to two “arms” due to her current level and status as a Journeyman was awesome. She kind of loved being able to stir her coffee without having to worry about spoons. 

And, there was also joy to be had in the fact that coffee still provided a boost. Food tasted fantastic, drinks were superb. Sleep was bliss. But so was the “work” of building or sketching blueprints or thinking and research. From a mood-perspective, Building and its relative actions just made her happy.

Once the old child-parent contract had unraveled and then revised to new parameters, unique options relating to the “hire” allowance her parents had made available so she could meet any household needs, had allowed her to hire herself for a nominal fee. She’d debated how much to take in payment, but her parents were well-to-do enough she figured it was a bit more like adding to her allowance than anything else. If her efforts had been for Joyce Summers, on the other hand, she might have only accepted a dollar. Still, when she’d awakened, she’d pretty much jumped into improving her parent’s home, simply because she could; and she’d loved it. 

It also turned out she liked dressing for the part. At the moment she was enjoying wearing sleek, fingertip-less leather gloves to protect her palms and the short, ragged cut denim shorts she’d made of an old pair of overalls, her waist girded about by her tool belt. She had only one strap looped, in, but wasn’t revealing anything, because she was also wearing a crop-top bikini. And her feet felt snug and safe in really comfy socks and good steel-toed boots. Some of the outfit was the left-over from the Halloween costume. Some of it had to do with comfort. It surprised her to know she didn’t care if anyone saw her like this. She had no idea she had any sort of exhibitionist streak, but there it was. 

Then again, thinking on the fact that she felt a niggle of ambitious pride regarding her latest project, the ongoing transformation of her parents home into a smart-home, well... that maybe meant that urge to show off was part and parcel to the Builder core. 

Maybe. It might also just be part of her original personality. If she hadn’t been crippled by her human-self’s issues of esteem and shyness, and her worry about her parents’ opinion, she might have been much more outgoing. Either way, while she wouldn’t necessarily be running around like a nudist any time soon, she knew some earlier inhibitions had been loosed from her being, as if they’d never really been hers to begin with. Mostly she felt grateful. 

The transformation of her parents’ home, meanwhile, was taking a good bit of her attention, and not just because she was doing it on her own. Willow found herself deeply enjoying the creative process, which meant sometimes she changed her mind about directions. She was also, based on her previous experiences, working smaller and slower. This was to help her avoid component starvation and tapping out her mana so profoundly. Not that their group emergency efforts hadn’t been worth every moment and personal expenditure. Still, despite the pro-side of things, in which the heavy drag on her Builder’s core had actually deepened her mana and component well, she just wasn’t that interested in being so near incapacitation again. No sirree.

To that end, rather than hose herself on stored goods, especially since she knew her parents could afford it, she’d gone shopping for materials that morning. It turned out that the local lumber and goods store was open very early in the morning. Who knew? She’d been able, at seven am, to order and procure what she needed and get home. By eight am, they had delivered the goods that they had negotiated. By ten am, she had planned out the renovation for the kitchen, reconstructed the downstairs bath and had started on expanding the family offices with auxiliary spaces and smart components. She figured she’d probably have the majority of the house done by before nightfall.

Okay, so she was pushing just a little, but honestly, she had a pretty good sense of her limits and she was having fun. Plus, there were just natural breaks that seemed to happen, like now, where she took a moment to step back and see what she had accomplished. As she gazed at the revision of her father’s office, she knew he would be happily surprised to find the library extension and the personal bar. She had not tried to upgrade his PC. She wasn’t barking mad. Some things you just did not mess with. She and her mom had barely sold him on the power of word processing and the printer. No need to confuse the issue further. 

However, the desk was larger and the drawers roomier. He had extra spaces for organizing whatever he might need. She had automated the cleaning through a touch of Builder magic, so the office and its environs would remain mostly dust free and the windows and mirrors would remain clear and clean with minimal effort. She figured he would enjoy the new extra-roomy recliner on the days he needed a nap. At least she hoped so. Mostly, she just hoped he liked the room, as it would be her unspoken gift to him. Just like the office she was planning for her mom would be a gift too. In fact, the whole house and the yard and the everything... well, her parents would return to a place that was both familiar and very changed. 

And she, with any luck, would be out and at her own place by then. 

\-----BTVS-----

One of the gleaming new garage doors opened to the sunny side of the Harris Fixit All Center. A very healthy motorized purr, gunned up into a deeper resonance, before the horn tossed off a few piping tones of farewell. The Volkswagen beetle shone as it slowly rolled out into the sunlight. A brilliant new paint job had resealed its traditional numbers, 53 in a circle, and the beautiful red-white-blue stripes, but its basic paint had been updated to a metallic silver that brought the car’s design a little more up-to-date; including a few other interior and exterior tweaks. The license plate holder shone silver, for a very brief moment, before it was filled with a very convincing local Californian plate, stamped with the word, “Herbie.” The body and interior had been completely re-fabricated and repaired. If it weren’t for the fact that the bug was rolling out on its own cognizance, it would have been hard to prove than any of the original had remained, but the HFAC people were professionals and not only had the restored the vehicle, they had enhanced and improved the essential magic of the original. If the car was a bit faster or the interior a bit more roomy, no one was going to complain. The car rolled further out and away, starting to pick up speed, when there was a very loud whistle followed by a shout.

It was enough. 

Herbie's rear-view and side mirrors pivoted and then paused. Behind it, as the garage door was closing, a small cylinder shaped yellow figure, wearing goggles and blue overalls, waved and hopped and imprecated. Then, once it noticed that the vehicle had stopped and the door had popped open, the creature yelped and ran forward, moving surprisingly quickly for such an oddly shaped being. It spoke rapidly at the car, sliding into the offered seat and buckling in without even mentioning the fact that it was passenger side. 

The rear-view mirror angled down as if looking at the creature, before angling back up and re-centering perfectly for driving. Then the gears changed and the car moved from park to go in a very few motions. The small individual kept talking, making some emphatic motions, while Herbie carefully drove from the yard to the gates. Two vehicles passed by and then car exited the yard completely. In a few moments, the car gathered speed until it caught up and passed the other cars as they headed back toward Sunnydale. 

\-----BTVS-----

Meanwhile, at the Royale, scientists and inventors and assistants and various sundry other individuals who believed they were at an awesome sf/fantasy convention, commingled. Of course, they were all correct. It was a science and speculative fiction slash fantasy convention. Which meant gaming, art shows, parties, costumes, and very convincing arguments about the best power source for a hyper-drive. 

For the most part, everyone attending were having a good time. Including three young men who lived for this sort of thing; Warren Mears, Andrew Wells and Jonathon Levinson. They were stretching out everything they could from the day-pass, with an intention to stay as late as possible, before heading home. They were willing to be sleep deprived at school, which spoke to their absolute dedication to the event.

Thus, they were there when Dr. Cockroach, Ph.d got into an epic philosophical and actual slap-fight with Dr. Drakken, another member of the panel, who pulled out a mammoth blaster, even as Dr. Cockroach began instantly developing a defense. At that point anyone with common sense fled the room, but let it not be said that mad science is about common sense. Everyone else stayed to witness the invention of a new type of shield, while the blaster malfunctioned anyway. It blasted out a massive ball of liquid-like-foam, which then expanded and tidal-waved the rest out of the room. The only one left standing was a supremely pleased Dr. Cockroach. The room was left sparkling. As was the hallway where everyone else had been dumped.

Dr. Drakken later sold the formula to the hotel for a goodly sum and left the convention with his head held high.

In the end, the trio of boys decided it was the best convention ever and Warren Mears dedicated himself to becoming quick thinker and inventor like Dr. Cockroach or Dr. Drakken or even both. After all, somehow they came out winners, regardless, and he definitely wanted to be one of those.

 

A/N - I've officially added Ironbear to my list of beta-readers, because he has been brilliant and helpful and I have definitely appreciated every point he's made. So there's that. Thank you Ironbear! :) Again.


	7. Chapter 7

BTVS: Builder: Junkyard Dog Chapter Seven

(Monday Next – At the High School)

Xander flopped next to Willow in one of the open study areas in the school. Certain perks existed for those who had managed to live through the freshman year and into the next. Those perks had improved with the rest of the changes on the campus. The couch was quite comfortable, so he settled back. He grinned as he glanced at his redhead friend again. Her head was tilted back and he could see that her eyes were closed, even though they were shielded by sunglasses. He knew she was awake because of the way she was breathing. She might have been meditating or consulting her inner AI, but somehow he doubted it. “So. Will. You’re looking a bit peaked. How was yesterday?”

The answering groan told him everything. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

He said, mock-consolingly, “Oh dear. Did we suddenly take up the drink or did we overdo?”

Willow tilted her head forward, and took off her sunglasses. She offered him a steel-eyed gaze and growled out, “You know perfectly well what happened. I was fine until Bob, whom you sent to me deliberately, showed up.” He grinned back unrepentantly and waved his hand in a ‘continue,’ motion. Then Willow let her head roll back on the seat, choosing to ignore that teasing smile and own up to things. “... aaaand we reorganized the garage, because you know, Bob thought Herbie, whom you didn’t even leave me a note about how smart he is, not that I couldn’t figure it out, needed a place to stay. And this was after I’d already worked on a few things at home already; which, by the way, I had planned for, including recovery time. This is for meddling.” 

She sneak-punched him on the shoulder and he rolled away laughing as she finished explaining. “By the time I looked at the clock it was too late for even a catnap. Worse, now I’m definitely in the land of hypocritia, because I know I told you to take it easy and then I went and did almost the exact opposite.”

He rubbed his shoulder, even though it didn’t hurt at all, and sat up with a cocky grin. “It’s not like I don’t know you, Will”. Then, curious, he then asked, “Almost?”

“I bought sundry goods and equipment from a hardware store before building. So, from a stuff to work with point of view I’m not at a complete empty. I just didn’t get any sleep at all last night so I’m really hankering for a small nap. If I get one of those soon, I’ll be fine.” 

Xander nodded sagely, “Oh, so you’re waiting for history class then.” 

“It is traditional,” Willow affirmed. Then she grinned. “On the perk side, I have loads of new tools. Wanna see them after school?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her in for a good side-hug. “I’d say never change, but what would be the fun in that?” He offered her a cheesy fake-sexy grin in return. “And, yes. Of course I want to see your tools. Maybe you’ll share ‘em.”

She cheesy-smiled back and then snuggled in companionably. “Should have listened to my own advice.”

“But you had fun?” He took the glasses off her face and folded them together, before pocketing them. 

She grinned despite herself, nodding against his shoulder. “Yeah. It was good. By the way, Bob and Herbie are making supply run for me, but they should be free, if you need them, after. Turns out the banking in the HFAC is twenty-four/seven and their suddenly available website offers incredible deals for gold pieces.”

“Imagine,” Xander said, smirking a little as he looked around the room. 

This earned him another small punch. Fortunately, Willow was definitely holding back, as they were more like tickles with pressure. 

“Shut up. Anyhow, I bought a building and was wondering if you’d like to come by and help me with it? Dawn already said yes this morning. If you want, I can sweeten the pot by offering you a “home” spot on the property once we’ve got it deconstructed and themed.”

He looked down at her, more than a bit astonished. “Really?” 

“Yep. You are looking at an emancipated woman and property owner.”

“Wow.” He didn’t even really know what to say, though a part of him thought he should have expected it. He also resisted the urge to ask how she managed all that. She had, after all, literally told him her plans and some mysteries remained better unbroken. 

“Yeah.” She sat up a little. “You want to know what is really weird?”

Xander took in her serious expression, “What?”

“I think my mom and dad’s place is more welcoming now than it was when I wasn’t emancipated. My room finally reads as mine.”

Xander caught his breath and then pulled her into a hug. He didn’t really have any words to offer, just the comfort of being a good friend. So they were quiet for a bit before he said, very firmly, “I’ll be glad to help and I look forward to it.”

Willow hummed a little and snuggled more into the cuddle; which lasted all of five minutes before it was randomly interrupted by the arrival of of a frustrated Buffy. 

Like Xander, Buffy practically flopped onto the couch; only this time it was across from them. 

“Ever wonder if the universe was out to get you?” she asked rhetorically. 

“For most of my life, but things have changed and now I’m out to get the universe,” Xander quipped. “What’s got you down? Need a little Bronzing?” He did a cute little one armed dance motion on the couch. 

Her negative head-shake was a downer of its own, but he persisted. “Come on, a little dancing, a little time with your friends?”

“If it were me,” said an unknown guy, who seemed to have just randomly appeared. “I would suggest Oreos dipped in apple juice.”

Buffy’s expression of woe morphed instantly into one of surprised happiness. “Ford!”

Actually, it turned out, once Buffy was into giving introductions, his name was Billy Fordham. In another life both Xander and Willow would have been mildly jealous of the past-friends interaction, but before that even became a twinkle of a thought both of them had engaged in examining the new-old person and both had made the same discovery. “Ford,” was a very sick guy; who apparently wasn’t ready to talk about it. He smiled a smile of glad to see Buffy and talked with them as if everything was normal in the world and agreed to join them at the Bronze after school. Which, okay, was a kind of change in plans, but only in the sense that Buffy hadn’t committed to the idea yet. It wasn’t like they were in a hurry. 

As Buffy lead Billy off to show him around school during their break, Xander muttered, “We gotta tell her.” He offered his hand to Willow, who let herself be lifted into standing. 

“I don’t know Xander. Something like that... it’s kind of private. I can kind of get why he’s not saying anything.” Willow shook her head sadly. 

“Well, yeah. I get it too. Macho guy, pretty girl. Last tour.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let go. Then he angled to the exit. “And I’d say something about getting him fixed, but... you didn’t feel anything off about him?”

“Xander, he’s got a … a...” Willow waved at her head. 

Xander raised his palms in a pausing motion. “I know. I know. But there’s something else. I mean, why even come to school? I mean, if you’re that sick. Would you be going to school? Would your parents even let you be at school?” He arched his brow at Willow, who suddenly looked thoughtful. “And not just that, Why Sunnydale?”

“Well, we did upgrade the school.” Willow ticked her finger once. “Then we built the HFAC.” She ticked her finger twice.

“But for news like this, wouldn’t you want to... I dunno... go to the person’s house or...”

“Who says he’s going to tell her?” Willow asked as they walked to class. “He might not want anyone to know, Xan.”

“But Buffy has to know.”

“Does she?” Willow asked. She paused him with a touch. “Maybe he just wanted to see her again, while he was looking good. Sure it’s a bit deceptive, but...”

Xander’s shoulders slumped. “Man.”

“We could make sure he’s really part of the school and maybe see what his new address is. I mean, I could maybe look up a few things...” 

Xander perked up. “It would set my mind at ease.”

“Okay, for you then.” She snaked her arm around his waist and gave him a quick squeeze. “I’ll let you know what I find, okay?”

“I’m gonna go make a phone call to our uber-doctor-vet. And also check in and see if our next minion is up and ready to work yet.” Then he paused and grasped her by the shoulder, stopping her forward motion. “Hey, before we continue, I just wanted to say, I didn’t send Herbie and Bob to you for the reason you think. When they showed up at the house, I’d just finished telling Dad and Mom about my... our... future plans. I was glad to see Bob, but I just thought it might be the straw, you know?” In fact, he’d been a little panicked to see that Bob hadn’t even been in the driver’s seat. At first he’d thought the little guy had been driving by remote control and then he’d looked and found out, no, it was a magical car. Oddly, given how calm he’d felt, after he absorbed the blueprint for the quirk, he thought he might be becoming a little jaded to that sort of thing. But still...his mom and dad weren’t and he hadn’t had a chance to get them used to the idea of little yellow guys let alone cars that drive themselves.

He really didn’t have to say more. Willow exhaled and nodded. “Sure. I get it. And it worked out anyway.” She smiled brightly at him then. “So, you go make that call and... Oh, you know that errand... I’m pretty sure it should be done by now.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a slip of paper. It had a number on it, which she handed to him. “You know. Just in case.”

This time it was his turn to smile. “Excellent.”

\-----BTVS-----

Pip, the new guy, was not only ready to work, but was already been on a project for Dawn. But the minion factory, somehow working a bit faster than expected, had already churned out another small yellow creature. Tim was friendly, surprisingly erudite in a way that reminded Xander of Giles, if he happened to have been born a minion. (Except Giles, of course, would never have been a minion. He would at least be a henchman and certainly nothing lower. Which, when thinking about it, must mean that Watchers must be Henchmen-level at least, so shouldn’t Giles have a bit more help, like mooks and lackeys. Of which, Giles would not be one of those either, because sometimes people needed observing on the sly and-or convincing of things and Giles was far too proper to be one of those. Xander’s mind abruptly tracked back to the problem of Billy...) They needed someone willing to take on the role of behind the scenes watch on Mr. Fordham and Tim seemed to be a perfect fit for the task. He even spoke a fairly clear, if heavily minion-y accented English. Xander mentally categorized Tim as a potential hero; which was kind of cool. 

The issue of someone keeping an eye on Bill seen to, Xander decided to not to call Bob just yet. He hung up the public phone and contemplated whether he could make it to class before the bell made its final ring. The answer turned out to be no.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” The tone which disrupted his thinking was anything but dulcet, as it held a familiar whip-snap of privilege and prestige gazing upon the unwashed masses; in particular Xander. Though he was, absolutely, a washed mass, but that was neither here nor there as the requirement to move was rather firmly conveyed.

“Oh. Hi, Cordelia.” His smile was a brief grimace of courtesy that flickered across his face, as he stepped away from the small booth. When he turned to look at her properly, he couldn’t help the quick once-over. He stepped back despite himself. The tall, beautiful young woman’s hair, face and outfit had been completely blacked out on the front, with speed lines marking that there had been a rapid expansion during the event. Little wisps of smoke twisted and curled above her hair, clothes and books like small ghosts. Xander couldn’t help but ask. “Wow. What happened?”

Cordelia grumpily reached for the phone with a dire expression and did not immediately answer. Xander impulsively added. “I thought you had phone.”

“Oh. I did.” The now she didn’t was apparent. And then, answering his question, as she dialed. “And, since you asked, the science club happened. Specifically Warren and that stupid giant robot thingy he and his geek friends were working on.”

“Giant robot?” Xander blinked a moment in stupefaction, then gleaned the idea that it wasn’t exactly a successful attempt from the young woman’s outer appearance. 

“Well, it’s not so big now. Parts were rolling down the hallway. I barely saved my book-bag from an arm,” Cordelia slung her bag down to the ground. The top of the fashionable item had been charred around the edges, and Xander could make out the slightly stretched silhouette of Cordelia’s shoulder, neck and head on the clean parts.

“Oh boy,” Xander muttered, figuring that Warren was probably a bit dead now or at least spiritually traumatized given how scorched Cordelia appeared. He could only imagine the castigation that must have followed. And couldn’t resist asking. “Did Warren survive?”

“Survive? Those dweebs scattered like cockroaches as soon as they saw who it was behind the smoke. They may think they got away with it by running out before I could see them all, but I know everything that goes on in this school and I know who is who and how to find out who did what. There will be payback. You can count on it.” Her expression boded a traumatizing future for the science club. 

Xander considered speaking on their behalf, then realized that they had to learn wisdom and survival skills sometime. If they could ninja their way out of the fire, they could certainly figure out how to stay out of Cordelia’s way for the foreseeable days ahead. Still, a part of him wonder if might be partly his fault for arranging to have the science labs located near the expanded shop. It seemed like such a logical thing to do at the time; and he really liked the new shop teacher. 

Meanwhile, he rapidly assessed the other pressing issues of the situation. Considering that he and Cordelia weren’t technically anywhere close to friends, it was likely she was speaking to him in near sociability out of shock. While he also had a more than passing acquaintance with Warren due to games and sundry other compatible issues, he also knew that the young man did like to push boundaries. Loyalty check rolled and kept rolling, because Warren was not Willow or Dawn or even Buffy, so he finally decided to fall back on location. Cordelia was closer.

“Have you considered the nurses office? You know, to determine the actual damage.”

“Damage?” She squealed in offense. “I know what they damaged. They ruined my shoes, my dress.” The outrage escalated in pitch. “My hair!” It was much more wail of agony than snooty attitude, so he found himself half reaching to pat her shoulder consolingly; until he remembered he liked that hand. 

“Right, and, of course, that is important, but I was thinking more along the lines of pain. I think you’re in shock. Maybe you should be sitting down.” 

“Pfft. Shock, schmock. I’ve been hurt worse at cheerleading camp. This body is a champion’s body. I’m built to last.” He couldn’t disagree with her there, as she waved the phone’s handset in emphasis before holding it against her ear. Then she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course, no one is home. Or at least, no one is answering.”

“You didn’t bring your car?” Xander asked, surprised. Once Cordelia had finally received her license, she’d pretty much driven to school every day.

“Harmony gave me a ride this morning. My car needed new brakes and Dad sent it somewhere.” Cordelia grumbled and hung up.

“Oh,” Xander said mildly. “But you need to get home and I take it Harmony, who would probably give up her left eyebrow to be able to leave early on any day, is actually unavailable.”

“Obviously.” Each syllable was said as if she were speaking to someone with a learning disability. 

He attempted not to take offense, but the slightly snarky side of him decided to speak without permission. “At least you look good in black.”

She sneered at him. It was a thing of beauty and left a lasting impression. He’d remember that look for years. 

“Or, you know, you could always go cheerleader and wear the uniform. Don’t you all keep a stash for changes?” 

She rolled her eyes at him this time. “Look, doofus, if I could I would, but everything is at the cleaners in prep for the game this weekend. Everything. And I’m not going to wear my gym shorts and a tee outside of gym, so forget it. Besides, as soon as he saw me, Principal Snyder gave his approval. I want to go home and am going to go home.” 

“Oh,” Xander said, though secretly he kind of doubted the whole “everything, everything,” argument. He was kind of getting a feel for girl-think because of his friends and he knew they sometimes put boy scouts to shame when it came to preparedness; well, kind of. It depended on the person. Buffy’s idea of preparedness was having the right pair of shoes for the outfit, a nail file and a pointy stick. Okay, so maybe his grasp on girl-fu remained weak. It would require more study, of which he was totally willing to donate time and effort.

“Yeah. Oh.” Cordelia sure had a lot of different ways of expressing disdain; all of them weirdly pretty, even if the attitude was ugly.

With a sigh, Xander held his hand out. “I can help. Give me a phone. I’ll get you a ride.”

“Not Sunshine cab. They are totally overpriced.”

“As if your allowance couldn’t handle it.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and dialed quickly. Then he said, “But I wasn’t calling them anyhow. Hey Bob.” 

In theory, he really didn’t actually need the number, because Minions would come when summoned, but it had been agreed that while in Sunnydale the trio of builders would when given the opportunity at least try to maintain appearances. So, Bob had a portable phone that was part of his development kit. It seemed like a practical idea at the time. 

Xander continued, “Glad I could get a hold of you. Willow said you guys were working late last night, but I got a small emergency, if you feel up to it. Plus we need Herbie, if he’s willing.”

“Small!” Cordelia protested. 

“Depending on your perspective,” Xander corrected, with a smirk. 

\-----BTVS-----

“You!” Cordelia stormed past the silver beetle. She probably would have commented on her apparent ride, but as soon as her gaze alighted on the sight of Andrew sitting in a tractor seat atop a pair of seven-foot robot legs, operated by controls in his grasp, she had other priorities. The young blond man had made the mistake of pausing to stare at the VW bug, before he spotted Cordelia. Then he frantically began pushing buttons and maneuvering levers. One of the legs swung forward, indecisively, jiggling a bit at the knee before settling the foot solidly on the ground again. 

The legs were a work in progress.

Xander and Bob, meanwhile, gaped as Cordelia in righteous fury of a snit slammed her blackened book bag several times against the leg that hadn’t moved. All the while ranting about her ruined clothes, hair, books, and the terrible fate that awaited the whole of the science club once she got her life back in order. Even though there was no way Andrew could feel the pummeling, the young man was exclaiming, “Ow! Don’t do that! You’re scratching the paint!”

“I’ll do more than scratch the paint. I’m buying a torch and melting this thing down! Come down here and face me like a man! Speaking of cowards, where are your friends? I know they’re around somewhere, watching you with notepads in their hands. There’s no way they’d let you out here alone!”

Provoked to even more seemingly random button and lever motions, Andrew frantically attempted to leave. Again, one of the giant legs lifted, lower half bent at the joint, and then it paused, with leg mid-wiggle and began to sway like a pendulum. 

Andrew went, “Eep!” He threw a toggle, the lower leg rotated to the side, crossing in front of the other, as the other leg started to bend. 

The whole thing teetered dangerously. Andrew leaned against the safety straps, almost hanging out of them. 

Then the robot dropped like a rock. Or a really large metal person. Bang! The half-mecha landed in a classic face-plant; only with Andrew as its face. 

Luckily for the blond, those straps held. He stared at the pavement, hanging about a foot or so above it, as if he’d seen death. Which, kind of, he had. Xander made a mental note to remind the science club to wear helmets.

Then he heard an angry woman’s shout of triumph and realized maybe the straps that held Andrew down weren’t so awesome any more. Apparently Andrew had realized the same thing as he tried unclipping himself, but the clips they’d designed did their job too well, even when he yanked. 

“Got you now!” 

Hair being tugged in the wrong direction hurt. And it seemed as if Andrew was learning this lesson as Cordelia apparently tried to disconnect his head from his shoulders by brute force; all while still smacking on the machine with her book-bag.

Well, what could he do? Xander ran toward the furious girl and said, “Cordy! Cordy! You can do this later! Your ride is here.” Then mindful that he was taking his life in his hands, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled the hand with the hair free from Andrew, who yelped gratefully, and physically lifted her away. He marched away with her as quickly as he could.

Andrew, it seemed, was given a moment of grace, or maybe some help from the hidden team. He didn’t even have a chance to touch the buttons before the robot legs responded. It rose up, thighs first, then one leg at a time, in a fairly rapid progression. Which was good, because no one wanted to give Cordelia a chance to do more damage. By the time Xander had her by the car, the half-mecha had hopped forward, regaining its standing position and it was making its getaway, which translated to a bit of wibbly-wobbly walking action. It was a bit like watching a drunk baby stagger in a parade, because now paper was flying everywhere. 

Amazing how much homework a book bag could contain. 

Xander meanwhile ended up getting smacked with the pack, twice, but that was an accident as she was in mid-swing one way and then on the rebound the other. He half expected her to slap at him as he carried her toward the car, but he had managed to make it back to Herbie by the time she was indignantly shouting, “Put me down!” 

He did and he even let her go, right until she started heading back. Then he grabbed her again.

“Cordy! Cordy!” He swiveled her around, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Wave and smile at the nice security cameras.”

Funny how a few words could instantly translate into a whole new set of body language. 

Cordelia stopped struggling, stopped flinging her bag like it was a weapon and even managed to flip her hair back before taking a casual stance. Her breasts were still heaving, and Xander took a brief moment to appreciate that, but she was now mostly under her own self-control again.

Behind them, the sound of large metal feet stomping away on the pavement clanged and flavored the air. Xander looked back to see papers and sundry objects flattened, mashed and scattered by the movement of the legs, which had finally decided to cooperate with Andrew, and were gaining speed. Hoping the boy had good brakes, the Scooby turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “You okay if I let go?” He only asked because she was leaning against him a little.

The leaning stopped and she again asserted herself, snapping out, “I’m fine.”

He raised his hands, placating. “Sure. Okay. Let me introduce you to Bob.” He turned and waved over the little guy. 

The little yellow person trotted over with a big smile, made an approximation of a bow, then grasped one of her hands. Then he kissed that hand, unbowed, babbled something at her and let her hand go. Xander translated. “He says he’s very pleased to make the acquaintance of such a lovely young woman.”

Cordelia’s brows were pretty much at her hairline, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but Xander decided to grab the moment while he could. “Bob, this is Cordelia Chase. She’s had a very bad day.” He dug into his pocket and handed some coins to the minion and crouched a bit so they were more at eye-level. “I want to you to get this exchanged at the HFAC bank for some local cash, then take Cordelia home so she can get changed and rest up. Then, if she feels like it, take her shopping and get anything she wants.” He glanced at Cordelia, who had turned her head away in an oddly courteous gesture and was tapping her foot in general irritation at the world, but was obviously listening. “Within the limits of the amount you can get for this, of course. Unless she contributes more to the funds. But what I’m trying to say is that for the rest of today do what she asks and needs and keep her safe and happy. Okay?”

The minion smiled broadly and gave a thumbs up. He was totally happy with pampering a pretty girl. “Okay!” 

“Okay.” Xander nodded. Then he rolled back up from the crouch. “One more introduction.” He went and stood by the car. “Cordelia, this is Herbie. He’s a ….”

“... renovated 1963 VW Bug.” She walked a full circuit around it, seeming calmer by the second. Attacking the mecha seemed to have adjusted her mood a little. “It can’t be... It just... These racing numbers are famous, Xander!” 

Xander rubbed the back of his neck and cocked his head. “Yeah. That’s right. How did you know...”

“It’s been awhile, but I think you would remember the Garage. How did you get...” She stopped mid-stride, suddenly looking a bit tired. “You know what... never mind. I don’t care. I just want to go home.”

This time it was Xander’s turn to blink. Then to smile. That was a good memory. “Your Dad’s cars. Right. Yeah, you would know then. And, remember Uncle Rory? Willow, Dawn and I helped clear out a garage.”

Cordelia did a small double take, but then, “So is this the real...?”

Xander shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe. But he’s a nice car, and seems pretty reasonable, so I figured we’d let him hang out if he wants to.” Then he decided to let her make her own ideas about that and moved on. “Okay then.” He turned to the car. “Herbie, the same rules I gave Bob apply to you. Help Cordelia out, would you?”

The horn tooted twice and the passenger door opened. 

“Excellent.”

“How did... How...” Cordelia started and then she shook her head. “Who am I kidding?” She flopped her hands up in a what-can-you-do motion. “It’s Sunnydale.” She angled one of those sharp glances at Xander. “And this car is one of the good guys?”

Both Bob and Xander nodded. “Absolutely. He’ll treat you right.”

Now that eagle-gaze moved to the car. “He better or there will be crowbars in the future.” 

The bug’s lights flashed in alarm and the wipers flipped a bit, but the door remained open. 

Then she turned and raked her gaze along the young man who had been in turns helpful and frustrating and who had, in a moment of rare common sense, offered to send her shopping. True, there was no way he’d be able to afford a true spree. She’d buy a trinket though, purely symbolic, so that his effort would not be in vain. But it spoke to his qualities, which had raised in her estimation, and not because she was greedy. He had taken time to take care of her; with all their history. In a flash, she made a decision. “I’ll expect to see you at the Bronze at eight,” she commanded Xander. “Wear something nice.”

The young man squeaked a bit, “Sure, Cordelia. Will do.” 

“Bob,” Cordelia said, extending her hand. The little yellow guy, now wearing a chauffeur’s cap that had mysteriously appeared from one of his pockets, grasped it and guided her into the passenger seat. The passenger door closed itself once she was buckled in. Then the minion trotted to the other side and gave Xander a jaunty wave before getting into the drivers seat. The little guy wasn’t going to forget Xander’s diatribe about the importance of having a driver in the driver’s seat for a long while. 

A few moments later they were away and Xander still felt a bit baffled about the whole Bronze thing. 

\-----BTVS-----

(Same Day – Early Afternoon – Summer’s Gallery)

“On second thought, it looked better over there.” Joyce pointed at an empty corner. A few feet away from her, a largish statue rose in the air, revealing tiny feet in tiny workman’s boots. The statue appeared to trot to the corner, then settle down. Joyce said, “Give it a quarter turn to your left.” 

The art piece obediently moved, this time revealing tiny yellow hands at the side. 

Joyce cocked her head one direction, then another. Then she nodded to herself. “Perfect Mr. Pip. Excellent job.” 

The small yellow being, bounced away from the statue with a, “Huzzah!” He burbled at her a moment, then waited expectantly. 

Behind her, attached to a lead by the cashier’s counter, Bo and Bubba responded to the explosive noise of success with yips of their own. Joyce, meanwhile, took a moment to gaze around the gallery, feeling a burst of satisfaction and gratitude. Dawn’s loan of the young Mr. Pip had been very helpful. The gallery was looking both tidy and visually pleasing now that the new material was finally on display. “No,” she said, “I think that does it.”

Pip pointed at Bo-Bubba, and offered more comments. Joyce glanced at the puppy with a fond expression and walked toward the counter. By the time she turned around again, leash in hand, Pip was there. “Just be sure and scoop. Twenty minutes?”

Joyce was pretty sure she was getting a handle on the language and the words combined with the salute meant, “Sure thing.” So she smiled and handed Bo-Bubba into Mr. Pip’s care. 

As Mr. Pip was getting ready to leave the door chimed jingled and a friendly looking brunet entered the gallery. He glanced down at the yellow man, blinked as the small man waved. He tilted his head. “How do you do?” 

The small man said something in return, which caused the taller man to pause a bit. Then he decided it was a simple greeting and smiled back. The puppy on the lead, by now acclimatizing to meeting new people, and noting that body language of those around him, didn’t bother to bark. Instead it sniffed at the stranger’s shoes. So the man crouched and offered his fingertips for it to examine. “Hello there little one.” A sniff from each head, a bit of a sneeze from one, then a lick from the other and he felt free to pet the small creature, gently. He then uncrouched. He glanced at Joyce and arched his brow, but he was still smiling. “You’re letting pets in here?”

Joyce’s smile of greeting was genuinely beautiful and happy, “Oh, Hello Ted! No, this is more of a temporary arrangement.” She went around the cashier’s station to embrace him, then stepped back, with one arm still around his waist. “This is Mr. Pip Pip. He’s really Dawn’s assistant, but he is helping me today. Mr. Pip this is Mr. Ted Buchanan. Mr. Pip was just heading out to take Bo-Bubba Summers, my family’s newest member, out.”

“How very nice to meet you both,” Ted offered. Mr. Pip responded positively, then waved again, and exited. Ted smiled at Joyce. “Extraordinary. You didn’t tell me you were getting a puppy.”

She laughed and leaned against him. “Well, it wasn’t planned, and there is quite the story behind it, but we’ve usually been pretty pet friendly. Until recently.” She took his hand. “Why don’t you come into my office and I’ll get you a coffee and tell you a bit about what has been happening in my life lately. Which brings me to, how was your trip?”

“Far more exciting than I planned. Sounds like we have a lot to talk about.” 

“I’ll put the closed sign in the door. Mr. Pip has a key and can get back in.” Her eyelids fluttered down a little and she gave him a sultry glance. “They are going to be gone for twenty minutes. Maybe we can do a little bit more than talk,” she said, leading.

Ted grinned.

\-----BTVS-----

Minion List:

Bob – Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Guard and help Cordelia  
Pip – Twinkie Minion – Current Assigment: Guard and help Joyce  
Tim – Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Follow and assist Ford


	8. Chapter 8

BTVS: Builder: Junkyard Dog Chapter Eight  
(The Past – On a Fateful Night)

The night was dark and peaceful. The moon, appearing to be extra large in the heavens, cast a silvery glow on everything, bright enough to light one’s way even without the street lights. A young blonde Slayer paced with determination down one particular road, heading toward a very well-known and oddly popular graveyard. Tonight she would meet her prophesied fate. She had accommodated herself to the idea to some degree and had put on a good face, but her heart was heavy.

Not too far way, yet far enough not to be heard or seen by a certain Slayer, Xander Harris rolled his eyes. “What I don’t get is why you didn’t just tell her you could knock her out?”

Rupert Giles did not roll his eyes. Also known in certain less savory circles as Ripper, which meant he had a myriad of interesting skills, adjusted the specialized rifle at his shoulder. “I did tell her. I told her we had several means of avoiding the so called inevitable events. Several times. Have you ever spoken with Ms. Summers when her mind is made up and personal drama is involved? And let us remember, I wasn’t always so sanguine. I recall you had to do a bit of talking to convince me, or rather, remind me of what I already believed.”

It had only taken a little while for Rupert to remember that he too believed that to be human meant being more than a figure driven by fate. After that it had been a matter of planning on how to suborn the prophecy and get around Buffy’s self-sacrificing and idiotic determination to stand alone against the Master. He had no idea who had put the idea that she had to do everything alone in her head. It certainly wasn’t him; well, not in recent memory at least. Spending a year plus on the hell-mouth provided a bit of perspective about the necessities of life and he had adjusted his actions and reactions accordingly, striving to be more inclusive of the help that was so willingly given; regardless of whether he had wanted it at first or not.

Personally, as far as Buffy’s one-point perspective was concerned, he blamed Merrick, who was strongly steeped in council rhetoric and beliefs. Rupert might work for them, but he had his own values, skills and abilities long before he had taken the mantle of Watcher. Then again, time had favored him more, and he’d had the opportunity to get to know the young woman, which he couldn’t truly say about Merrick. Perhaps things might have been different if he lived.

“Oh, right. Well, at least you were willing to listen, but her? I admit, I tried too. Rock meet Mountain.” Xander tested the wind with his finger, made an adjustment in a little book on his knee and lifted his binoculars again. “I’ve never met anyone so determined to doom themselves into their own demise.” He pitched his voice a touch higher. “Oh woe. I is a Slayer. I have a terrible destiny. Whatever shall I do?” Then he grumbled, in his normal vocal range, “Whatever happened to not going silently into the night? Good thing she thinks you had a mandatory librarian’s conference to attend. She would probably have done something to keep you from stopping her, or something.”

“No need to mock, Xander. She performs a great service to the world on a nightly basis,” the librarian-slash-Watcher said sternly.

“Complaining all the way,” Xander responded, but he subsided. “Except on good days, which she actually has more of than I am currently giving her credit for, I know.” Then he sighed. “She’s fun and easy to like when she’s not gloomy.”

“That she is. And sometimes, when it comes to this particular calling, it is easy to forget that she is a young woman of her times and all that entails. While I can not fully understand her burden or her ability to mangle simple English, I do appreciate that her duty weighs heavily upon her sometimes and most often without the thanks that she deserves.” Rupert watched his young charge carefully through the cross-hair. “More importantly, at this moment, she is probably not in her right mind. This is a night fraught with mystic energies and portents. She may possibly be under the influence of Dark Purposes, which can be quite hard to shake off. It is not normally in her nature to give into self-destruction quite so fully and with so little struggle. Therefore, in my opinion, we are definitely called upon to intervene.”

“Yeah. I get you.” Xander sighed. Then he said, “I don’t see anyone else on or near the road, Giles. She seems to be in the clear. No wind to of which to speak.” He flashed a grin at Giles and then said, “Now aren’t you glad my Dad sent me to a scout camp a few summers ago?” He then offered a few more words, jargon more specific to their efforts.

“I question why scouts needed to know how to snipe, but yes, I appreciate your father’s modest attempts to educate you.”

“I think it’s because the scoutmaster didn’t really get what snipe hunts were meant to be about.” Xander replied.

Rupert hummed a bit in disguised amusement and then said, “Let us hope the favorable state of the weather and Buffy’s position continues for but a moment.” With those words, Rupert’s fingertip brushed the trigger and the rifle jolted, not quite silently. His vision blurred as he readjusted to the scope, but he thought he saw Buffy turning.

Too late, he hoped. He’d tried to accommodate and take her quite respectable speed into account, but Slayers could move very, very quickly.

Xander meanwhile whistled, as he watched the dart strike and penetrate through the black leather coat the slayer wore. It hit with a solid smack that caused Buffy to wince. She automatically reached toward her shoulder, pulling out the dart to look at it in befuddlement. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped, crumpling at the knees and then down like a puppet without her strings. “One for the home team!”

“Yes, well, gloat later. She’s vulnerable now. Let us hasten to retrieve her before someone else has the same idea.”

“Right!” Xander scrambled after the Watcher, ready to lend a hand.

\-----BTVS-----

(The Past – Sometime After Xander and Rupert Scarpered Away With Buffy)

Heinrich Joseph Nest, otherwise known as the Master, waited with a glorious anticipation that had been building for much too long. Tonight was the night when freedom and power would be his again, and the mere thought of it was nearly orgasmic. He glanced up, gazing at a night sky made evident through a charmed ceiling. The moon, even diluted by the magic and cavern wall, felt marvelous. He could feel the weakening of the shields that caged him.

Everything was going so well, until his favorite and smallest Childe returned home and bravely told him the truth.

“What do you mean the Slayer wasn’t there?”

Unfortunately for the boy-shaped vampire, his guesses did not suffice to stop his master’s fist and dust filled the air as the Master shouted obscenities. As the moon, planets and stars aligned, the shield wavered, but Nest was so involved in his rage, with his attention turned inward toward his cavern, he missed the point where the shield briefly flickered and died. With no minions close to tell him, he never saw or even felt the fall or the rise, as the magical force-field returned stronger than ever.

\-----BTVS-----

(The Past – Around the Same Time as Mr. Nest Vented)

Xander was assigned to hang out with the sleeping Slayer. He, while glancing up and over at Buffy pretty much every thirty seconds, had read through three new comics, two old comics and was seriously contemplating whether Mr. Giles had anything interesting, say an ancient tome with pictures, when he noticed that something was different. Alarmed, he rose to his feet, shouting for Giles before making the few steps necessary to reach Buffy at a sprint. It took nearly no time at all, for a simple glance to prompt him to drop his ear to Buffy’s chest. 

No rise. No fall. No breath at all.

But she was still warm. He muffled the urge to scream at the universe, taking in that particular breath as deeply as he could before he grasped Buffy’s nose and planted his lips on hers. 

This is how Rupert, who had been making tea in the kitchen, found Xander; breathing for his friend. 

Maybe a second later, he was at Buffy’s other side, and lifting her arm by the wrist; counting under his breath. 

He paled before he dropped her arm and said, calmly, “Stand away Xander.”

“She’s not breathing Giles,” the young man said, his brown eyes moist and expression worried. 

Rupert, by that time, had stretched to reach the top of a set of drawers, where he’d laid out supplies for in case. “I know,” he said calmly, even as he prepped a large needle and syringe. “It was always a possibility given the formula I used to put her out. It’s why we needed to watch her tonight. Please hold her at the shoulders.” He did not mention that he was basing hopes, not just on the chemical concoction he was about to administer, but on the slayer’s preternatural ability to heal quickly. Xander, however, could guess.

Buffy’s blouse suffered a rough fatality as the Watcher ripped it apart. Then there was a quick measurement before he struck down hard with that scary-long needle. Xander gasped, because the force of it bounced Buffy up and she flopped like a dead fish back down onto the soft surface of the bed. 

For a moment that felt far too long and threatened both men’s composure, there was nothing, then Buffy’s eyes popped open and she abruptly sat upright, despite Xander’s so-called grip. It had been like trying to stop a rhino. He thought maybe his palms had a bit of rug burn from the bra straps. 

As if were some sort of strange, tiny sword that just happened to inflict itself upon her, Buffy plucked the syringe out of her chest. She stared at it a moment before half-shouting, “What the hell, Giles!” 

But Rupert just smiled softly and took off his glasses to wipe them with a clean cloth, and said, “Oh good. You’re awake.” 

\-----BTVS-----

(The Present – Still Monday and Everyone Else is in School, Mostly – HFAC)

Cordelia Chase allowed herself a lingering gaze at the oddity of the Harris Fix-it All Center. 

When Bob had driven her to the outskirts of town, she had been concerned, but given that she had understood Bob to have an errand to run and she wasn’t a kidnap victim, she opted not to worry. This choice was positively reinforced when the small storage compartment flipped open and she spotted face wipes, a brush and sundries that she could use to modestly fix herself up. It was a work of a few moments, even though she skipped reapplying makeup, until she was presentable. The compartment had then flipped closed again, reopening with a hand-sized, antique, but stylin’ clutch.

She had ignored the way items seem to find their way into her hand without her having to reach back for her backpack. Somethings were better left unquestioned and as the car wasn’t acting like Christine, she could let some things slide; including the fact that while she was filling the clutch with her ID and a few other items, there hadn’t been a nominal driver for the car. 

That didn’t last too long, and Bob was back in the seat before she could remind herself to that, trusting Xander aside, maybe it wasn’t entirely unreasonable to panic. 

Cordelia felt concern rise again when the car made a turn at the Harris Scrap Yard, until she saw the very new, surprisingly attractive center. The building and its parking lot were pristine and pleasing enough in aesthetics that while it might not be upper-class she still felt comfortable enough at the possibility of being seen. Compared to the front office of the scrapyard, it was an oasis. It was also, given the number of vehicles parked in front of it, an apparently popular one.

Original intentions of staying in the car aside, Bob escorted her with a friendly and professional demeanor, holding the door open and leading the way to the portion of the center where a tiny man with pointed ears held court at what looked to be a very popular assistant’s station. She didn’t have much time to gawp on the way, not that she ever would, but it seemed that when a Harris said Fix-it All, they meant it. She saw a blue person with a safety-funneled chihuahua, paying at the front and several seats were full of people with pets of various sizes and afflictions. Or, in the case of one … individual, no sign of a pet, but a definite affliction and enough fur to qualify as non-human. Carefully skirting by the damaged person while trying to not look as if she were grossed out, they passed a shorter line and she heard that customer saying, “I’m very sure it’s not the brakes, and my wife can’t hear it, thank God, because she’d complain all day, but the squealing sound is driving me nuts. You gotta do something.”

Then, as if they’d passed some invisible line, things quieted to a somber whisper of noise as they passed one of those ubiquitous round bank stations and there was yet another line and above mentioned short person. Above the teller’s station and layered into the table’s writing surface was a gold sigil with a swirly IGS. She didn’t know what IGS stood for, but she did like the look of the logo. She also noted that, like the pet thing, this area of the center appeared to be popular.

And, as with any other bank, she noticed that the garb of those present ran the gamut from hobo to Ritz. Having processed that much, she mainly tried to focus on the guy in the very nice suit, one... person... down from where she had stalled, who seemed normal enough for her to disregard the individual in the raggedy sweater hat directly in front of her. Ew. Before her ruminations could deepen much further Bob had taken her hand again and led her to a seat. He then gave her a cola to drink, a magazine to read and took a place in line. 

She was really, really starting to like Bob and she gave him many points just for not having to stand in line behind the eek. The seat was comfortable and the music was appropriately soothing, without being intrusive, which meant it was pretty much forgettable. She had planned to ignore the magazine, until she saw it was the latest edition of Runway and then she just had to read and scan through it. As per usual, Ms. Priestly, the editor-in-chief, was on her game. 

She glanced up, probably too often, but not in such a way as to be obvious, just enough to note Bob moving steadily forward and so kept up her perusal of the magazine even though a kind of curiosity was niggling at her awareness. However, the hairs on the back of her neck weren’t actually standing up in alarm or change in air pressure, so she just let her focus go soft and enjoyed the magazine for the moment.

Until she saw Bob finally arrive at the teller’s. Then she let Runway drop into her lap, hands still holding its edges to keep it from flying away. Bob, who was much shorter than the teller station, poked his finger at the station and a set of stairs rotated out from a hidden nook. That was kind of nifty. Of course, it made sense that if they had a short teller, they’d make an adjustment for a customer. 

Bob pulled a bag filled with change out of his pocket and set it on the counter. Cordelia rolled her eyes, sighed and deliberately went back to skimming the magazine. Honestly. It was nice of Xander to try and she certainly wouldn’t discourage him from generosity, but his income favored places like the Donut Hole. He certainly couldn’t afford her lush lifestyle. 

Still, she wouldn’t mock a light dinner, was was probably all she was getting out of this and it did add bonus points to Xander’s rise in her estimation.

“Excuse me, young lady.” 

Cordelia glanced up to see the little man, standing besides Bob. Since he didn’t appear hostile, she decided not to provoke anything. Yet. “Yes?”

“Mr. Bob has informed me that your name is Cordelia Chase. Would you, by any chance, be a relative of Reginald Chase?”

Cordelia cocked her eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“We have a...,” he paused a moment, “... matter of some delicacy to address, but the correct identification is important, you understand.”

Now her gaze narrowed and she grasped her clutch, “And if I said yes?”

“I would assure you that you were in no danger, but invite you to accompany me to an office. This is not really a matter for public consumption.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to ask for my ID?”

“We would inevitably need that, yes, but there are other means at our disposal for identification. One of which we might have to use, anyhow. Accuracy, in this case, is important.”

Cordelia glanced around and then back at the earnest appearing banker. “May Bob accompany us?”

“Certainly. In fact, at this point, I might advise it.”

Cordelia set aside the magazine and stood up, “Well then, let’s go.”

\-----BTVS-----

(An Hour and Some Change Later or So – The Mall)

A bemused minion watched as Cordelia stalked like a predator through Zed’s Fine Jewelry Store, hunting for something to match her mood. That would be difficult, surmised Bob. Based on what he knew, which was admittedly was only what he’d seen in the last few hours, the young woman’s day had been one of deep falls and fast rises. The news the banker had given her was both terrible and awesome. Awesome being Ms. Chase’ word choice upon receipt of her new savings and checking account checkbooks. 

The I in IGS did not stand for international. It stood for Inter-dimensional. Their full title being Inter-dimensional Gnome Syndicate. Somehow, through mysterious means and as a result of the choices of other incarnations of herself in other non-local locations, Ms. Chase had been her own inheritor and her alternate bank and law firm of choice from those other realms had been IGS. Though Chase would always have her family loyalty and she had kept, apparently, a hefty, but “nominal,” amount in the family bank too. However, all services joined at IGS. The explanation about the hows, whats and whys had taken forty minutes, including a reading of two wills and three contracts, getting the young woman to believe what she was hearing, had taken another twenty. The final thirty minutes had been spent on verification, paperwork and the essential rehiring of IGS for Ms. Chase’ purposes; which had resulted in the discovery of some bad news about the local variation of her father’s fortune and a file full of paperwork identifying her trust fund as a source of “income,” for his business dealings. It was all highly illegal and technically he couldn't touch her trust fund, but the way he had done it basically guaranteed her money could be tied up in the courts and gone if something should happen if his plans failed.

Bob shuddered. The young lady had not been happy. Not at all.

Fortunately, because certain issues were discovered early, Ms. Chase was able to make educated choices regarding her local personal Chase bank account and her trust funds, guarding them from both maternal and paternal lines. They had nip _that_ potential hazard in the bud; another thirty minutes. And then, once that paperwork and a scorchingly truthful phone call to her grandmother Chase, whom she _knew_ adored her, to vent was done, she’d required shopping fortification, because it was either that or kill her father, but she had promised her grandmother she would let them handle it. Which meant... 

Ooh. Shiny. Bob watched as the manager hovered, then dipped, like a hawk to fetch a gorgeous necklace. Perhaps finding the perfect thing wasn’t as difficult as Bob thought it would be.

At Cordelia’s serious nod, the necklace was whisked away and packaged. When she turned as if to head to the cashier’s, Bob scampered, waving a card and stepping in front of the young woman with a purposeful mien. He had a job to do.

But when he started to hand the card over to the cashier, Ms. Chase said, with a shark-like grin. “Not that Xander can afford it, though I’m willing to let you try, just for the laugh, but we’re not done yet.”

Bob, a being that might be generally excitable because adventure is awesome, but was also normally fairly sanguine around “danger,” gulped.

\-----BTVS-----

(The Present – Nearing the End of the School Day – In School)

The Sunnydale High School workshop was a hive of activity. Thick cables, odd doodads and a strange layer of fog permeated the hallway that ran past and combined the science, tech and shop classrooms into a designated work space. Xander felt right at home as he strolled out of the shop and into the hall with a short, slightly pudgy woman. Her goggles sat at the top of her head and a streak of oil was spread along her cheek, but her smile was merry.

“Thank you for letting me know about the issue, Mr. Harris. While I can not guarantee it won’t happen again, I will remind the students of their duty to ensure the safety of others.”

“Xander, Ms. Daitokuji. Mr. Harris is my Dad, you know?” He shrugged sheepishly and played with the new watch on his wrist.

“Then you may call me Ume when we are not in class. I am like you, in that my first name is my preference. My sister-in-law, B-ko, is very much the Ms. Daitokuji, of the family. I am still getting used to it” The shop teacher smiled warmly and tapped her chin with a fingertip and then nodded. “Cordelia very much reminds me of her. Wait here.” 

“Um. Okay,” Xander said cluelessly, as the shop teacher vanished back into the large, specialized classroom. He did not have long to wait, before Ms. Daitokuji, no Ume, no... Ms. Ume returned. Yeah, that would work. It was respectful from both directions. Behind her, he thought he heard the wail of doomed souls, but as soon as the door shut the crying evaporated and he decided he could set it aside as a worry. Geeks, he knew could be easily traumatized when things didn’t quite work the way they expected. She held in her hand, two watches. 

“I think you might benefit from this, Xander. These were originally intended to make changes of uniform in school easier. However, the technology club decided to play with the settings and now they are far from their original specs. I can’t even tell you what all they programmed it to do now, but they will at least allow a change of outfits.” She held the first watch so he could see it and the proceeded to explain what she understood about its workings. 

By the time she was done, Xander was grinning from ear to ear and had already slapped and wrapped the heavier watch onto his wrist.

Xander fiddled with a dial. Light shimmered around his body and suddenly he was wearing a fedora, a leather jacket and a whip at his hip. He couldn’t help the happy dance of his feet, though he avoided a full-out snoopy. “This is super-nifty. I’m sure Cordelia will like hers, Ms. Ume.”

Her expression was slightly, and surprisingly smug. “Consider it a small token from the technology club. Please let her know that none of the events today were intentional and that we would appreciate it if she let us keep Andrew in one piece.”

“I will. I have a feeling this will make up for a lot.”

Ms. Ume smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder. “Excellent, Xander.” A noise, like a soft, but deep fwoomp came from the classroom. Grey smoke and dust billowed toward their feet, from under the door frame. She glanced back and shook her head, but her expression remained benign. “At least they do learn from their mistakes.” She shrugged and turned her attention back to Xander. “I believe that is my signal. Farewell.”

“See you later Ms. Ume.” He waved as she turned and walked away. Then he played with the watch again. The light shimmered. Suddenly it appeared as if he had on red and gold armor. There was even a clanking sound to match as he walked the rest of the way down the corridor. The only thing missing was the weight of the armor, but he was entirely okay with that. 

With a slightly manic grin, he changed the dials again. 

\-----BTVS-----

(The Present: Monday – After School; Finally!! – Originally Calax Research and Development now Red Tree Properties)

“You know,” Dawn said slowly, “Until now I thought I was feeling kind of okay, fairly munchy, but not super-duper-hungry.” Her eyes gleamed as she took in the expanse of the property. “But now...”

“Now?” Queried Willow, as the pause went a little long. Though she could guess, as her expression probably matched Dawn’s. 

Dawn shrugged like a cat about to pounce. “I could eat.”

The three Builders all grinned in anticipation. This was going to be fun. 

“Okay, before we begin, any storage concerns?”

“Well, I’m not exactly personally tapped out, but I am not full up either. If we need to, we can designate a spot for transformed materials, but I was kind of hoping to avoid too much building if we could, but we need to fence off everything,” Willow said. “Otherwise, I basically just want to clear the space so I can have a better idea of what we’re working with.”

Dawn chimed in, “I’ve been updating the house, so I got plenty of room and I can always fill a pocket or two.”

“So pocket space for extras and no building, except for a basic fence. Right. I think I got the plan now. Willow, as the designated owner, you want to count the go?”

“Oh yeah.” She nodded emphatically. Then, without much ado at all, she said, “Ready. Set...”

She didn’t need to verbally finish, because they heard her mental command and it was enough. They were off, as if they heard the sound of a starting gunshot, and the deconstruction commenced.

They started at the old gate that outlined the grounds. It lifted as if pulled by a mighty magnet, then separated into pieces and then turned into motes before becoming something even more insubstantial to be absorbed by them. Then a new line of fencing started, one that was sturdy, tall and simple. It would be enough to keep out most, not that once they were done anyone would want in the temporarily empty space. But it never hurt to secure things.

Then they split away from each other, like three over-powered racing vacuums. Their plan was to deconstruct the fence and its surroundings, reconstructing the fence along the way, work through the wrinkled by earthquakes parking lot, the decorative resting spaces that originally meant wealth and had become overgrown with weeds, the broken and tragic warehouses and the old wreck of the center itself. Calax Research and Development had been a large place, one that had provided a steady work environment for commuters and locals, until its bosses had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. 

They ran, laughing, as they dragged all that which surrounded them save the pure earth and stone beneath. The ground in their wake gleamed as if polished. They left nothing, no trees, no flowers, no bent rusting steel. Everything was absorbed, down to the ground and even below, as the great depth of the Calax Research and Development building revealed itself. They rose above it, held up by their unthinking telekinesis and hidden by great clouds of materials not yet absorbed. 

Unobserved by the Builders, as the process was so quick that even those who burst into dust hardly noticed the change before becoming part of the great stew of raw essences for the materials, several nests were uncovered and discorporated. It wasn’t that the Builders deconstructed the vampires, but rather that once the buildings came apart, sunshine revealed the creatures of the night without fail. They’d had nowhere to hide and no time to do it. And, since deconstructing buildings sometimes brought about sparks, none of the Builders thought anything of the flares.

In due time, the full deconstruction was done. The empty hole in the ground had been been filled and tamped until the land was perfectly flat and ready for the changes they would make. Dawn looked around experiencing a moment of awe. “Wow. This is really different. It’s also a bit larger than I thought.”

Willow grimaced. “I think we accidentally took some neighboring warehouses. Somehow we managed to claim them as we went.”

“Well, it is the first time we haven’t tried to build as we deconstructed.” Xander commented. Of the three, he felt quite content. “Looks like we gained a bit of oceanfront too.” 

“I don’t know whether to say oops or yay.” Willow said, scuffing the ground a bit sheepishly. “But at least I know we don’t have to worry about the paperwork. If it weren’t a legitimate claim we couldn’t have done it. But I’m serious, Xan. This is bigger than I planned.”

“I vote yay, then.” Xander said. He made a gesture with his hand and architects drawing table and builder’s sawhorse table appeared. He then pointed. “Why don’t you put what plans you had there, and since we’re all here, we’ll talk. Though,” He checked his internal clock, “We may have to leave it for another time, because I have a date at eight.” He grinned. “Ooh, a rhyme.”

“A very old one. And I can work with waiting. I need to think anyhow. I have a lot of ideas that I want to try.”

“So who’s your date?” Dawn asked. She teased Xander a lot because he was a good looking guy, but she also wanted him to be happy. So, a date for him, was a good thing in her book.”

“Cordelia.”

Dawn’s gaze raked Xander up and down, taking in his slightly dusty form. She arched a brow. “You weren’t going like that, were you?”

Xander grinned, lifting his arm to show his watch. “Funny you should mention.”

–---BTVS-----

 

Minion List

Bob O– Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Guard and help Cordelia  
Pip Pip – Twinkie Minion – Current Assigment: Guard and help Joyce  
Tim E– Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Follow and assist Ford


	9. Chapter 9

BTVS: Builder: Junkyard Dog Chapter Nine  
(Later that evening – Not yet 8pm, Darkness is settling in – Just outside the Bronze, but not overly near an entryway. Out of the way, People! We're talking here.)

“Here you go Xander,” Willow said as she returned his watch, the watch originally intended for Cordelia; plus a new “masculine,” watch and a new “feminine” watch. “I really appreciate you letting me play with the originals, even though I had to hurry a little because of time constraint. But they were practically done anyhow. The science club does good work.” 

He hummed an agreement, of sorts. “They can be pretty awesome when they put their minds to it, but I won't ever claim they're practical.” 

Willow laughed. “Well, yeah, but that doesn't change that tinkering with the watch is fun.” She lifted her arm and showed the watch around her wrist. The band was slim, the watch face had an image of tree on it, with cut outs for the display. “Plus, now I have one. This was definitely so much easier than shopping for new clothes." Xander didn't have much to say to that, because he agreed. Meanwhile, still slightly giddy from success, Willow continued, "So, thanks for waiting. Check this out.” The watch flashed up a small light display.

“Ooh. Nifty.” He dragged her arm closer so he could examine the revised watch more closely. The blueprint was spectacular compared to the older version. “Is that the web? All of it?”

“Yes. Kind of. Not really. But close. I had to pull and adapt some chips from the computer lab, but no one will notice they're missing. The watch pulls from a high-speed wireless service that was set up at the school for data information, but I also installed certain parts from more useful sites directly into it for easy and instant access. It's not so hard coded in that we can't update as necessary. Plus, if you press this button, and then this one, you'll get a holographic keyboard and mouse." She demonstrated turning that feature on and off, with a mad grin. "Then I fiddled with things 'til they looked good. There might be a few other nifty features like, you know, communication, but to keep it watch-like, it tells time too!” She pressed another button, and lo, time was shown. 

She pressed again, bringing up another tiny window of coolness, then used a fingertip to scroll through several images until she found the one she wanted. “The streamlined look of the watch is just a side bonus. Well, and the new catalog entries. And the manual. Because, you know, something like this needs a help file, right." She bounced on her heels. "You remember the ring from the bus ride, the one that let our friends pass as normal, well the Doctor sent me some serious info and yeah that helped. A lot, lot. Gave me ideas. Check this out.” She tapped the image on the watch-screen.

Xander would be the first to admit that Willow had been slowly updating her personal look over the last little while. Until Buffy had arrived, she’d really only had Xander and Jesse’s opinions to lean on for fashion advice and well, they thought t-shirts and jeans were fine pretty much all the time. Anything past that and they just accepted her word for it and smiled. Still, he thought the changes he’d noticed were all good things, but never felt it was his place to say anything beyond what he usually said, regardless. “You look nice Willow,” covered a lot of bases and was generally true, except for that one time.

The outfit she wore before was perfectly acceptable to-the-Bronze wear. A short skirt, nice blouse, face made up in some sort of way. She looked nice. Absolutely.

But as bright pops of light swirled around her suddenly I-think-she’s-naked-except-for-strategically-placed-bonus-ribbons and sparkles in the shape of stars and hearts and wrenches, he was reminded that she was an anime fan and that, if he’d had the option, he wouldn’t have resisted change-effect lights either. He suddenly wondered if he could get a similar effect only with hammers and less hearts. Maybe camo-ribbon and some strategically placed plants.

Before he could think on the topic more it was all done and he was left a little gape-mouthed.  
The redhead still looked like Willow, but that look was now taken to the oomph power. As a guy, he could see the difference, but ask him what it was and his answer would be along the lines of, “Guh. Girl Pretty. Fancy shoes and clothes nice.”

She might be his fellow Builder and family of choice, but he was generally aware that she could hold her own as a female. But there were some days she, like many other women, surpassed themselves. This moment was one of them. His Wow-o-meter had dinged.

Of course, Willow was also a geek and very excited at the new toy. “Wait, there’s more,” she said as she waggled her hands like she was stalling for time. “Check this out.”

Once again there was light, but without the sparkles. It was more like she’d been beamed down; Old-school Trekwise. It was obvious now that Willow had taken the original wrapping of light the guys had input and kicked it up several notches, and with options. The realization made him feel a touch giddy. 

Oh hey, he recognized that red armor. It was girl shaped, but he knew what he was looking at. He’d worn something similar earlier in the day. Xander grinned widely.

“Hit me.”

Xander’s grin immediately faded. “What?”

She rapped an armored glove to her opposite shoulder. The sound rang out like metal clanging. “Hit the armor.”

“Willow, if I hit the armor, I’ll be hitting you. It’s an optical and sonic illusion. A very cool one, mind you, but still, an illusion,” he said reasonably.

She huffed and the visor flicked up so she could give a solid 7.5 level annoyed glance. “Look, I didn’t say you had to hit me hard. Just do it.”

Well, there was always the modified shoulder punch. That should be safe enough since they did those kind of punches all the time when they were cracking wise at each other. Making a guestimate as to where he thought her shoulder really was and adjusting accordingly in his mind, he let his fist fly.

KLANG!

His knuckles really, really regretted that bad touch. Really, the signal from his hand to his brain was full of ow and more ow. He shook his hand as if to push out the pain as he danced in small circles of lament for nearly a half a minute.

“Sorry! So Sorry. I didn’t realize the force setting was so high. I’m so sorry, Xander,” Willow said as she reached out for him and steadied him back to standing still. Fortunately, the armor was gone and she was in regular Willow-dress and shape for the moment. 

“Force setting?” Xander flexed and shook his hand again.

“Yeah,” Willow nodded. “Well, you know, we have all those templates and as I was dinking about, I looked likely ways to improve the functions that were available, without breaking the spirit of the watch. After all, can’t go too high tech, can’t go too low tech, but I figured a force field can do a multitude of things. At least, if it’s done right.”

Xander, much calmer and more impressed now, said, “You’d make a great Sue Richards.”

She beamed at him, but denied the possibility, saying, “No, I don’t like Reed that much. He’s too competitive and mono-focused for his own good. But thank you, anyhow.” Willow patted his back, “I’ll make you a batch of apology cookies soon, okay?”

Xander laughed despite himself. “You don’t have to. I kind of brought that on myself. But thanks. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”

“Darn tootin’.”

  
\-----BTVS-----  


(The Same Approximate Time – Inside the Bronze)

Inside the Bronze, Cordelia had claimed a spot where she could keep her eye on the door, the exits, and the dance floor, while remaining outside of the usual spaces where young adults mingled and roved; which meant, she was upstairs. Normally Cordelia claimed a center point on the main floor, surrounded by her clique. But, she had reason to claim the upper level, and with Bob around to act on her behalf, she was quite happy with the arrangements. Bob, after all, was awesome and she had pretty much claimed the minion from Xander, in her mind.

She glanced down at Harmony, who was blithely dancing with only one of the basketball players. She had finally, after a near hair-pulling fight, allowed that the other Cordettes might have a point that she was hogging all the “good ones.” Cordelia hadn't had to do a thing, like she planned all along. Plus, it had been character building for Harmony. That young blonde was a girl who had an attention quota and it was now topped off. So, now there would be some peace and quiet at the top and in the group. Cordelia’s other followers could now enjoy being engaged in the ritual of dancing their school night away. It might be a Monday night, but homework was done during study hours and her girls were pros at sharing the workload.

Cordelia hadn’t decided whether she planned on doing the same, as the person she awaited had not arrived yet. She glanced at her watch, and then at the door. He wasn’t late, but he also wasn’t early either. She supposed, given other certain things, this was another tally in his favor.

She lazily caressed the sparkling and obviously expensive necklace around her neck as she reminisced about how she’d acquired the jewelry with a bemused smile while she considered intentions versus reality.

_After Cordelia's challenge, Bob had actually humphed at her, then responded by snootily placing the card firmly on the pad and then making shooing motions at the manager to get a move on._

_Brow arched and keeping her mind on the potential for amusement not just now, but later, she had rolled her eyes. “If it doesn’t go through, don’t blame me.” Then she shared a bemused gaze with the manager and said, reassuringly,“You can use my card after his bounces.”_

_The manager smiled tightly and said, “As you wish.” Then, with a superior look, snap and flourish, he’d taken card and tally pad away at a fast march. Then, because he was still within eyesight, he’d ostentatiously made the call. The phone’s long cord twirled lazily along the store’s beautifully carpeted floor, while the manager waited and impatiently flipped Xander’s card in his fingers. Then, finally, he began pressing the phone’s buttons to apply the card’s information._

_More waiting happened as the data worked its way through the system. Cordelia’s smirk stretched as she thought about the teasing she was going to do._

_The manager listened at the phone, card twirling again. Then, he straightened abruptly, uttered a brief, “Oh!”_

_Cordelia held back the giggle of fiscal superiority, but only just._

_The manager slowly hung up the phone, then handed Bob the card with a brilliant ingratiating smile. “Thank you for your payment. Please come again.” He waved at his staff, who handed the bags to a smug yellow tiny man._

_Cordelia gaped and blinked, then caught up. “What!”_

_The manager smiled. “It went through. It’s all payed for. I hope you enjoy your purchases.”_

_A thrill of cold sparks rolled up her spine as the implications sank in. What had she done! “No! No! It can’t. He can’t...He can’t afford it. Call them back!”_

_Bob, by that time, had tucked the card away and marched toward her, burbling, “Nononononono. Stupa! Para Tu!” He grasped her arm and began guiding her away, talking rapidly in that nonsensically, yet weirdly understandable language. Soon he had the shell shocked Cordelia out of the jewelers and past, and into a new store._

Fast talking, fast walking and several shops and a visit with a very talented beautician later, she had forgotten what she'd even been upset about and now, hours later, she was deep water serene. Mostly. Except she was slightly anxious to have words with Xander. After all, she was going to have to pay him back. Hopefully he wouldn't be all Guy-Pride with her and refuse. But, even if he was, there were ways and ways of giving back; some more fun than others. Cordelia smiled slyly. 

Then Xander and Willow cheerfully entered the Bronze, looking as if they'd just stepped out of fashion magazines. They chattered away, oblivious to the glances others were casting their way, then side hugged and drifted in different directions, with Xander peering around as if he were looking for someone, but Willow making a pretty steady forward onto the dance floor. Cordelia was stunned. She didn't know Willow could dance. 

She was even more shocked as she watched the redhead snake her way toward Harmony, somehow inserting herself smoothly into a small grouping with the blonde and the boy dancing with her. Cordelia's friend merely looked Willow up and down, nodded firmly and kept on dancing. This is why Cordelia missed Xander's appreciative gaze when he finally spotted her.

  
\-----BTVS-----  


(The Same Approximate Time – Buffy's House)

Music could be heard through the open window, soft and sweet. The two young people stood close together, hands on the edge of each other's hips, but not lower. They had stopped talking five minutes ago, after a long day of catching up. 

Then the song ended. "Sorry about not letting you into the house. Mom rules, you know?" Buffy said, casually. 

Billy didn't let go of Buffy just yet. "It's not a problem. I'm just glad..."

The blonde smiled. "Yeah. Me too," she said a little breathlessly. 

They gazed into each other's eyes for a minute more, then, as if he just remembered something, Billy shook his head, as if waking from a dream. "Oh. The time. It's going to be dark soon. I think I gotta go." They could already see the lights on the poles starting to warm up and brighten.

It was easy to tell that Buffy was disappointed. "Right. Yeah. I get that. You sure you don't want me to come with," She asked hopefully.

He laughed. "I'll be alright." He pulled out a pocketknife, "See, I'm even boy-scout prepared."

Buffy folded her arms close to her chest, her expression worried though she didn't say anything more about it. Then she shrugged toward her door. "I guess, really, I kind of have to go in, too. I'm skirting the law as it is..."

"Grounding sucks, huh."

"Yeah." Buffy's features brightened. "But, next time maybe we can dance at the Bronze."

He smiled more warmly. "Yeah. That would be cool." Then he stepped back. "I guess I'll...."

Buffy stepped forward and kissed Billy's cheek before he really started leaving, smiling. "It's been great to see you," she said, sounding more perky than she had in days. "I'm glad you're in town. We're going to have a lot of fun. I can tell. Stay safe."

"I had fun too," the young man said warmly. "I can hardly wait." He gave a half smile before stepping off the porch and then walking away. 

Buffy watched him leave, then, with a sigh, went inside her house. Unnoticed by anyone, not even the slayer, a minion followed Billy Fordham.

  
\-----BTVS-----  


(Just a little after 8pm – inside the Bronze)

"It's about time you showed up," Cordelia snarked, but the tone of her voice was far less toxic than usual. Seeing Xander practically glide in his walk was a thing of beauty and she was very distracted by how nicely he cleaned up. She couldn't resist reaching forward, nabbing his collar with her fingertips and straightening it unnecessarily. The soft stroke of her hand down his chest made his eyes widen, which made her eyes narrow in pleasure. She wasn't quite smiling yet, but a part of her wanted to; it just wasn't time. "So where have you been?"

Really, he wasn't late. He didn't bother acting late either. He offered her that goofy grin of his and dug into a pocket. Any other day it would have looked a bit ham-fisted, but for some reason he exuded a bit more cool factor. Not that what was revealed seemed all that awesome; especially after the whole shopping spree, but still. He had his charms. 

Xander waved the watch gently. "This is for you." He coughed a little, then said, "From the guys in the science club and shop. They say they are very sorry." Her eyes narrowed and he followed up quickly with, "It has the web. Willow tweaked it for you. Plus, there are few other features, which I will tell you about later, that I guarantee you will love. Trust me, you'll like it." His babble ended with, "Oh, and you look..." The watch bobbed with his waving hand as he indicated her whole form, "Really great. Very pretty. Also, much more relaxed." 

She rolled her eyes, but then held out her arm. Sure, it didn't match her outfit, but a gift was a gift. She could be gracious. "I'm still mad at them, so I reserve the right to torture and maim."   
“Well, you are so very good at it.” The quip was out before he could stop it and he had a brief flash of worry that the not-quite-a-date was already over.   
“Everyone has to have a hobby.” She didn't miss a beat. But then she shrugged and answered his unspoken question. "I had a better afternoon."

He wrapped the watch band around her wrist and started working the clasp. "Bob and Herbie helped, right?"

He was rewarded with a gleaming, slightly predatory smile. "Oh yes. I couldn't have managed this afternoon without them. Thank you.”

Xander patted the watch, as if that would keep it in place. His gaze was the friendliest she'd seen in a long time and it warmed something that she'd thought long gone cold. He asked, "And do you need Bob and Herbie again tomorrow?" He moved to the table and held a chair out for her and she sat down, naturally graceful. 

She gazed up at him, intending to mention how she had to talk to him about the card, but looking into his eyes, she felt as if she were falling. "Maybe." That was the only word that she could remember.

"Then we'll make sure that happens." He touched her shoulder gently, pressing lightly. "I like knowing you're taken care of."

Cordelia Chase, who never blushed at anything, felt heat rise from her toes to her face. She forgot all about paybacks and slyness and sultry games. She was goo. A puddle of mellowy-goodness all wrapped in hearts and stars. And she liked it.

  
\-----BTVS-----  


(Around the same time, the sun is well and truly set – Summer's Residence)

Dawn finally finished her homework, happily tucking the last sheet of notepaper into a favorite lime-green folder, which she closed with a contented tap. Homework was just so much easier now. Math was a snap. History was interesting because of the small things that were the same, but different from what her alter-self had known. And, Dawn knew her English essay was pristine. It was going to be A-city all the way; oh yes. 

Feeling pleased with herself, she took a moment to stretch and enjoy the quiet of her room. Buffy had come in ages ago to claim playtime with Bo-Bubba. Mom had allowed that because the puppy needed socialization with the family, and it was a legit thing Buffy could do to while away some of her not-so-free time. 

Dawn struggled not to smirk, but ultimately failed. Even though she loved her sister, Buffy got away with so much crap that a little comeuppance was cause for legitimate and lasting amusement. Still, Dawn wasn't inclined to be mean about it, so in the privacy of her room, she could let that bit of glee out. Outside her room, not so much. No one wanted the wrath of Mom, even if one could rock the chores with a cleanup build (given a certain non-literal interpretation of earlier permissions). 

Speaking of which… Dawn glanced at the clock and shrugged. It was too early to sleep and she did not really want to go play at Willow's build site without the others, at least not without a solid plan. But that didn't mean she had to stay bored. With a grin she left her room and started down the stairs. She wondered if she could talk her mom into letting her tweak the front room storage closet so it would generate and clean seasonal outerwear automatically. She could hardly say no to no more muddy boots, right? And it was a limited enough build that, really, wouldn't take a whole lot of energy. 

Thinking pleasantly about the kind of things that she'd like the closet to generate and how to go about setting it, she finally arrived on the main level. Speaking loudly, without paying much attention to direction, she said, “Hey, Mom, is it okay if I change the foyer closet around?” 

She half-way wasn't expecting an answer. Sometimes mom was back by eight, sometimes she wasn't. But the answer came, from the front room. “That will be fine, dear.” 

Inwardly, Dawn experienced another jolt of unobscured happiness, because that was a blanket contract there; anything she wanted, anything she could envision, no caveats applied. Oh she was going to have fun. Her thoughts would have continued in that direction, except that the tone of the reply caught her attention. She turned toward the frontroom, saying, “Is everything o...kay?” Dawn paused, as she took in the scene.

Buffy and their mother were standing, facing each other, arms folded and faces set. Bo-Bubba was on the floor between them, each head staring up at the two women. This, oddly, was not what had caught Dawn's attention next. Her mom and Buffy had been having these moments since Joyce had found out that her daughter was going out at night. No, what caught the younger Summer's gaze was the outfit her mom was wearing – black jacket, black jeans and black trainers, and in her jacket pockets, stakes. This wasn't exactly their mom's usual look and Dawn stifled a gasp. 

Buffy, as if she hadn't heard Dawn said, “Look, you can't do this. It's dangerous!”

“You're right. It is dangerous, but you do not have a say, Buffy Anne Summers, in what I do or do not do. I am the adult in charge and you're still grounded. I am showing you this now so you are aware that Mr. Giles and I have have arrived at an agreement. Taking care of you is my prerogative and duty as your mother. I need to make a few more arrangements, but after this week, I am your driver for the foreseeable future. Get used to it.” Then their mom jerked her head, “Now head upstairs, because I have a few words to say to Dawn. I'll be by to check on you in ten minutes.” 

“Mom...” 

“Upstairs, Buffy. Door open.” Noting the flinch, she relented. “You can take Bo-Bubba with you for company.”

Buffy retrieved the puppy, shared a troubled glance with her sister and then bounded up the stairs three at a time.

  
\-----BTVS-----  


(Later that night – In a Graveyard not too far away from the Summer's Residence)

Billy Fordham was bored. After all, he had been waiting since shortly after sunset at an agreed upon space. Personally, he would have preferred someplace a little more public, like the mall, but beggars could not be choosers and he was most definitely the beggar in this scenario. That he was marginally aware of the danger his request for contact meant he was not so bored that he wasn't paying attention. He only hoped his sources were good and that, in the long run, it worked out well. After all, it wasn't like he really had that much to lose. 

He leaned against a handy mausoleum wall practically, mostly, fearless. So he trembled a bit, but his aspect, like many teens, held the confidence of immortal youth. Not that he was immortal yet, but he had plans to be. A few pieces to the puzzle were missing, but he was getting closer to his goal. It was more a matter of time being his enemy now.

Billy kept his attention outward, letting his gaze rove lazily along the hills and valleys created by the shadowy tombstones. He took note of the meandering path, lit by old-fashioned lamps. It was kind of odd, he thought, that the cemetery had lamps, as if many people came out at night to sit with their dead. On the other hand, he had heard all sorts of interesting things about Sunnydale. Nothing had proved the rumors untrue yet.

Time passed and he thought maybe he was out of luck. He was starting to feel a bit tired. Then he saw her, and his breath caught.

He watched as a woman in a long, sleek white dress glided forward, feet seeming to hardly touch the ground as she skipped and circled in a small dance around some imaginary fairy hill. He couldn't see anything she should be dancing to or for, but he expected, if this was the person he was was waiting on, that she saw a great deal that he did not; or so the books by a certain author said.

He was kind of looking forward to being able to find out if a vampire really could see magic and more.

Briefly he touched his collarbone, feeling for the cross pendant he'd secured around his neck, just in case, under the buttons. No sense in being offensive, but no sense in being utterly dumb either. He stepped just a little away from the wall, briefly missing its security. Then he walked to the third headstone to his left and waited.

She was there between one breath and the next, startling him. His stepped back despite himself, but all she did was laugh like a girl. 

He straightened his stance, tucking his thumbs into his jeans as a deliberate act of confidence and jerked his head up. "You here for me?"

Her laughter stopped cold. Cocking her head and she leveled a heavy, cold, predator's gaze at him. For a terrifying moment he felt like lunch. She smiled, very toothily, and though he did not see fangs he thought maybe he should be. 

"Grandfather asked me to come look at you little goat, to determine the stars' will." She drew back, offering a saucy grin as she began to stroll slowly around him. "I'm hoping to find Daddy a puppy, even though he's not Daddy again." She paused. "Yet." Then she shrugged and half danced. "But Grandfather will fix him." She nodded, to herself mostly. "After the punishments." She laughed again and before he could react, drew a nail across his cheek. 

He gasped in pain, slapping a hand to his face. She, meanwhile, slid her tongue along her fingertip, flicking it a little with a sultry gaze. "You might do." She pointed at him with that same sharp nail. "You've a naughty plan, little goat."

Billy shivered lightly. "I wouldn't call it that, exactly."

"Oh?" The woman was there again, so very quickly. She touched his shoulder, winding her arm around him, slowly like a snake. "Perhaps you'd call it something else." 

"An exchange. I'll give you her and you give me what I want, a chance at a longer life."

"Oh, but we don't offer life, little one. That's not what we do." She whispered in his ear. Then she inhaled and drew away with a dreamy smile. "Still, you smell a bit of death already and try to play the game. I suppose there have been worse offers." She shrugged. "But I don't care about little girls. I just want my Spike back. That way, when Daddy comes back, we can all be happy families again. Maybe you could be the littlest." Her gaze narrowed and she snapped out. "Can you bring my Spike back?"

Billy, who had no idea what she was talking about, tried to fake it. He kept his voice as confident as he could. After all, how hard could it be? "I can."

The growl was inhuman. Because, of course, she wasn't human. "Liar!!!" 

He stumbled back, half a step away from a run, but her hands were on his shoulders and she shook him hard before he could even really think of the concept of running away. She gripped him so tightly, so angrily, that he felt his bones creak. Pain scored through him as her mouth dropped to his neck and he knew he was going to die. His body betrayed him in that moment, but he was too busy being caught up in his demise to realize how thoroughly fear had washed through him. He'd forgotten to say goodbye to his parents. He thought he'd be able to go back and share his success with them. Maybe he should have left more than a note.

Abruptly he sneezed. Then he coughed harshly as overheated dust filled his nostrils and mouth as he fell hard, back to the ground. Billy slapped a hand against his neck in immediate dread, but felt no warmth, no wetness. He wasn't losing consciousness because he was bleeding out and that relieved him. 

Before he finished collapsing, Billy processed the brief thought that he saw a tiny, angry, yellow man with a flamethrower. 

Well. That explained the heat.

  
\-----BTVS-----  


Minion List

Bob O– Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Guard and help Cordelia  
Pip Pip – Twinkie Minion – Current Assigment: Guard and help Joyce  
Tim E– Twinkie Minion – Current Assignment: Follow and assist Ford


End file.
